The Debt
by Scribes and Scrolls
Summary: Set just after the curse breaks, Emma hunts down Regina, who is preparing to flee. Sparks will fly. Eventual Swan Queen.
1. Chapter 1

**THE DEBT**

**By Scribes and Scrolls  
**

**Author's note: I plan for this to be a long multi-part story following the end of the curse. ****This will be an M-rated Swan Queen by the time it's done.** With enormous thanks to my beautiful beta reader and brain-storming idea-supplier, indiana. Reviews will speed the writing process, I promise.  


**PART ONE: DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE  
**

Emma Swan sprinted with bruising pace down the main street of Storybrooke. If she knew Regina Mills, she'd be making her escape right about now. She had to move it. _Fast_.

Around her all hell was breaking loose. Stores were getting windows smashed as anger was turning outwards. She'd already spied three short-statured miners brawling in the street, nine sheets to the wind - the bone of contention apparently being someone called "Stealthy".

Gepetto was scuttling towards Granny's as fast as his ancient legs would carry him, a permanently startled look on his face. Seeking out his newly remembered son, no doubt.

But joy was thin on the ground now.

Emma gritted her teeth. All this because of _her_. The sheriff's hand tightened on the sword she carried. The heavy weight was almost comforting as she felt its power. It tingled beneath her fingertips, and it firmed her cold resolve.

Everywhere she turned she could feel an undercurrent, a white noise, of rage towards Regina. Her name was a curse now. She could feel the bleak clouds which had been gathering over the town and its inhabitants starting to shift, and the storm was bearing down right on the mayor's house. Not long now before the tempest hit. Emma was hellbent on getting there first.

The blonde set her jaw grimly. She knew some people had stopped to stare as she bolted past - the sight of the "White Knight", sword in hand, blazing towards the Evil Queen's home doubtlessly gave them pause.

No one stopped her. A few people even called out bloodthirsty encouragement. Her lip curled. She ignored them all.

Sweat was now pouring down her face, her lungs burning by the time she charged up the path to the mayoral residence.

She could see Regina's gleaming black Mercedes in the drive. Its opulence seemed to almost mock the sheriff. Oh yes, Regina Mills had made damned sure she wanted for nothing in her new life while everyone else suffered. The glossy, ebony doors were open, the boot popped. Going somewhere fast, it would seem.

Not fast enough, lady.

She thumped on the door.

Silence.

She hollered: "Regina! Let me in NOW! Goddamnit!"

She belted the door with the rounded, gilt-edged handle on her sword and the banging echoed around the home's lower level.

More silence.

Emma grabbed the weapon in both hands, angling it in the crack between the door and frame and pivoted _hard _until her sinews screamed.

The splintering sound was ear-shattering and Emma knew on any other day the mayor would have blown a gasket if she'd seen the damage wrought.

But this wasn't any other day.

Shouldering open the door, then slamming it shut behind her with a satisfying crash, Emma raced up the stairs, head snapping about as she looked into each room she came to. _Master bedroom, probably. Packing. Even evil queens need spare underwear for emergency escapes._

Sure enough, a startled Regina lifted her head, arms full of clothes she was thrusting inelegantly into a suitcase on her bed, and their eyes met.

"Miss Swan, here to see me off?" she purred, the flinty fear in her eyes not quite hidden. Brown eyes flicked to Emma's sword. "Or to just finish me off?"

She leaned forward in a rare position of supplication, shifting her hair, offering up a smooth, bare neck. She bent over and resumed packing. "Be sure to swing true," she drawled.

Emma scowled and grabbed the woman's arm, pulling her viciously to her feet. "Come with me. NOW."

Regina snatched her bruised arm from the pincer grip and glared in fury. "I will not be holed up in some primitive dungeon while the baying mob works out 50 innovative ways to torture me!"

"REGINA!" Emma growled, ignoring her, snatching at her arm again and bodily shoving her towards the door. "NOW! Or so help me..."

The brunette opened her mouth for a nasty retort but was drowned out by a crash. Then another. The window they were standing near suddenly exploded into shards of glass. A perfect red apple spun drunkenly across the floor to stop at the women's feet.

"They're pelting me with _my apples_?" Regina gasped, askance, rushing to the window.

"GET DOWN!" Emma roared, dropping to her hands and knees and wrenching Regina down beside her, as another vicious red missile just missed her nose.

"Those _bastards_," Regina spat, face stricken.

She began to rise to peer out but Emma yanked her back to the floor. Emma then slid up slowly and dared a glimpse outside, snapping her head back suddenly as more apples flew through the window, exploding into a sloppy mess down the far wall.

Then an angry, throaty roar of a chainsaw began and Regina paled. "Oh NO!, no, no, no!"

She turned white and for a brief moment Emma's and Regina's eyes locked. The pain on the mayor's face was palpable, visceral, and Emma couldn't help but remember a time when she had brutally enacted exactly the same punishment on Regina, just to win a debating point.

The aggressive snarl of the machine changed pitch and it was obviously now biting into Regina's precious apple tree. A chant began: "Die, die, die..."

"Time to go." Emma said tightly. "That tree won't occupy the mob for long."

Regina hesitated, debating, eyes flicking across Emma's face.

"_Really Regina_? I won't ask again! Now MOVE IT." Emma crawled forward, pulling Regina painfully by the wrist until she scrambled forward. The brunette was half standing, half crawling and, absurdly, now reaching to take her Louis Vuitton luggage.

Emma slapped the woman's hand off the case. "Don't be a fool," she hissed. Emma turned, wrenched open the bedroom door and stilled, tilting her head cautiously. She looked left and right, seeing and hearing nothing new. The morbid, throaty drone outside continued unabated.

The mayor hesitated, eyes flicking longingly towards her luggage. Regina snaked a hand inside and pulled out a small, worn leather satchel, pocketing it in her tailored black pants.

The blonde glanced back. "Where's the back way out of here?"

Regina pointed down the stairs to a dark passage. "That way," she said, her voice low.

They were halfway down the stairs, Emma keeping a firm grip on the brunette's arm, when they heard the almighty groan and crash. Emma glanced back and saw tears springing to the mayor's eye, her mouth a thin, hard line. "Those bastards," Regina hissed. "To destroy such beauty."

Emma bit back a smart-ass reply about it being just a tree and how Regina had some pretty warped priorities. She dragged her captive towards the back door. They were almost there when the mansion's front door flew open behind them. Emma dropped quickly to her knees and hauled Regina with her as they scrambled behind a cabinet to inspect the invaders.

Chants of "Kill the witch" could be heard and a posse of frightened faces filled the door frame, clearly trying to give each other Dutch courage. Even now they hesitated at the top step. Emma could make out Granny in the fray, along with Ashley and Leroy. Behind them an enormous creature with grey skin loped up towards the house. "A troll!" Emma whispered in astonishment. "An actual freaking troll!"

"Harold," Regina pursed her lips. "I wondered when he'd get here."

Emma snapped a look at her. "Friend of yours?" she muttered disbelievingly.

"Not... _ exactly_." Regina replied, with a sour look. "I introduced him to gravity once." She frowned. "It didn't stick."

The brunette then turned and scrabbled to a lower level, pointing Emma to another door.

Emma slid up to vertical, back pressed flat against the wall beside the door, looking down at the crouched mayor, a finger warningly to her lips. And then she flicked her eyes across and gently edged aside a lace curtain covering a window next to the door.

The sight outside was absurd. Emma had to blink twice to believe it. Half a dozen dwarves - waving pick-axes. Fifty or so Storybrooke residents - and this batch was showing no fear. Plus a large wolf. Another troll. Or was it the same one? And two hairy feet. She peered up. And two knees. Higher. _Oh hell. _Ah, one extra, extra large giant.

Emma dropped her gaze down to Regina.

"We're gonna need another exit," she stated flatly.

The brunette looked at her mutinously, eyes flicking back to the door knob.

Emma shook her head. "No," the sheriff snapped, tightening her grip on her sword in annoyance. She hauled the mayor back to her feet by the armpit and growled: "I KNOW you must have another way out. No games."

Regina's eyes narrowed but she pointed wordlessly to her library. Emma watched as the mayor headed for it, running straight to the shelves. She selected three books in a particular order: War of the Worlds, The Laws of Magic and Economics: The Allocation of Scarce Resources To Meet Unlimited Wants.

Emma, who had followed her, shot her eyebrows up at the latter title.

"Well I didn't want Henry finding this, did I?" the mayor replied defensively at the unspoken question.

With the trio of books missing, the shelves suddenly slid open revealing a spiral stairway leading down into a cellar. Emma squinted and saw in the dim light an apple cider press. Bottles of cider lined the walls, labels perfectly aligned, stating contents, vintage, year.

Very anal. Very Regina.

_Huh._

Emma had always wondered where the brunette made this potent stuff.

The mayor ran down the short, swirling flight of steps and then suddenly dropped to the floor, flipped on her back, clearly indifferent to dirtying her already mussed black-and-white blazer, and pushed herself underneath the machine. It was a cumbersome contraption that looked half a century out of date.

The sheriff stared at Regina's legs, wriggling in frustration. Once they would have caught her eye with their effortless, sexual swagger. But she could no longer unknow the things she knew. Those shapely legs were attached to a vicious, punitive woman. Emma's eyes glinted in anger. She would not forget that.

She watched the limbs twisting a little longer as the mayor reached further under the press. "Any day now, Regina," she sniped, her irritation rising as her adrenalin levels began to drop.

"Do _you _want to do this, dear?" a muffled voice barked. Emma resisted the urge to kick her in the sneery little ... shin.

Regina finally found what she was looking for and flicked a switch. A sound of rumbling could be heard in the distance. She rose, wiping grease off her hands with a distasteful look. Her expression faltered when she caught the rage in Emma's eye. Her eyes dropped to the floor and she waited.

"Now what?" Emma snapped.

A door the sheriff had not even seen before slid to one side in the back wall. The blonde stared, mouth open, at the impossibly long tunnel stretched beyond it.

They heard distant shouts and the sheriff realised whatever fears the baying mob had had, they'd obviously overcome them. They were ransacking the mansion with a great deal of glee. And getting closer. The sheriff ran up the spiral stairs to the bookcase entrance, staring out. "How do I close this wall?" she demanded urgently.

When she got no response she glanced back down to realise the brunette had already bolted into the other passageway.

"REGINA!" She hollered.

"Hit the black button and it'll close," the mayor's distant voice called back. "And damn it, Miss Swan, STOP SHOUTING!"

Hell she was fast. Emma quickly spun around again and scoured the wall looking for a black button, finally finding it high above her head, near the ceiling. She jumped and just hit it, seeing the heavy shelving slide into place, her eye catching a flash of colour as the first intruders entered the hallway outside.

None saw her but she could faintly hear shouts of "Where is the _bitch_?" as the wall finally snicked back into place.

That was too close.

"Regina," she hissed into the bleak vacuum, shouldering her sword.

There was no reply.


	2. Chapter 2

**THE DEBT**

**By Scribes and Scrolls**

**CHAPTER TWO: IN THE VELVET DARKNESS**

Emma paused at the top of the spiral staircase and listened. She could not hear any movement in the cellar below nor the passageway beyond. Regina had obviously gone so far, so fast she was now out of earshot. Like rats off a sinking ship. _Great_.

She could just leave her. Press the black button and fade into the mob outside and head home.

_Home_. Emma actually had one now. That was a weird thought. Although discovering your roomie and her adulterous lover were actually your real (and married) parents – that was going to take some getting used to.

And then there was Henry.

Henry. Before she had left the hospital, he had grabbed her wrist and pulled her in urgently.

"What's going to happen to mo… the Evil Queen?" he had whispered, his large brown eyes engulfing hers.

"What do you mean kid? You mean 'how will she be punished' or…?"

"No! Everyone knows in stories when the evil queen is vanquished she gets … _attacked_. By crowds of angry villagers. With _pitchforks_! And _burning torches_!"

Henry's eyes began to fill with tears. "I know Mom is the evil queen but…" he faded out.

"But you don't want her to get hurt," Emma finished.

He looked away guiltily.

"Kid, it's OK to want Regina to be safe even if she has done bad things. That doesn't mean you are siding with evil. Just means you love her."

"It's not that," Henry scowled defensively, clearly unhappy with his mother's traitorous conclusion. "You're the _White Knight_. You've won! Now it's your duty to protect _everyone_. Even her." He pouted. "I am just reminding you of what you have to do is all."

"Uh huh. Sure kid." Emma grinned and ruffled his hair. "But I'd kinda like to stay here with you for a bit if that's OK. And Regina is pretty resourceful, I'm sure she can more than take care of herself."

Emma knew full well what Henry's answer would be but she needed him to say it out loud. It was time he acknowledged the truth. As much as it pained her and how much simpler life would be if it wasn't true, but for all Regina's terrible faults and deeds, there was also no doubt she had loved her adopted son. Emma knew the truth with absolute certainty when she'd heard Regina's anguished plea at the hospital. And it was the reason she would lift a finger to help her now. But Henry had to admit the reason, too.

"Emma," he whispered, head hanging low. "I-I… she's still my mom, too. Please help her?"

Emma nodded seriously. "OK. I will. After all, kid, I would hate for you to suffer if anything bad happened to her."

"Thanks Emma," he beamed. "Oh and I can stay with Miss Blanchard … I mean Grandma … if, you know, the mob takes a while to quell?"

Emma laughed out loud. "_Quell_? Kiddo you so need to broaden your reading range. I won't be long. But if it'll make you feel better, I'll text her to come by and look after you."

Henry nodded vigorously. "Oh and you have to take Prince Charming's sword. It has magic! You know. Just in case."

"OK, got it. Take Dad's sword, check. Quell angry mob, check. Rescue Evil Queen, check. Anything else?"

"Remember that Mom gets real mad and stubborn when she's afraid but you mustn't take no for an answer. And stay safe. I love you, Emma."

"Love you too, kiddo." Emma leaned over and kissed the top of his head, never ceasing to be amazed it was this small act half an hour ago that had rocked everyone's world. She slid off the bed and waggled her fingers goodbye.

It was probably a good idea to see what Her Majesty was up to anyway, Emma conceded as she ambled out of the ward. Mobs were a little far out of sedate Storybrooke's repertoire, but Regina … well, Regina Emma had a fat freaking bone to pick with.

The sheriff felt a stab of anger rise as she thought of all she'd lost at the other woman's hand. That confrontation alone could definitely take a while – and, knowing them both, a lot of lung capacity.

Emma reached for her cell phone and texted her roommate about keeping an eye on Henry as she made her way outside the hospital.

The moment she passed through the doors she felt it instantly. A strange, otherworldly tension in the atmosphere. It was unnerving. The air even smelt different. Slightly sulphuric. As though a nasty thunderstorm was blowing in.

She turned slowly, taking in the scene. Nothing felt as it should. The people. The town. It felt… _off_.

A scraggly big-eared dwarf jogged by with a murderous glint in his eye, _trying_ to carry an oddly familiar sword. Emma peered at the ungainly sight. _Goddamnit_, she muttered, suddenly realising what he was up to. He was heading for the mayor's house. With HER father's sword. She scowled.

Maybe Henry wasn't overreacting after all.

"I'll take that, Leroy," Emma snarled, yoinking it off him effortlessly as he passed by. "Hell, my sword's bigger than you are."

She winced. There were so many things wrong with that last sentence.

She tuned out the man's string of colourful vitriol as she measured the weapon's weight in her hand and eyed the design. Definitely the same one she'd slain a dragon with … hell, was that only _today_? Speaking of sentences you never thought you'd utter in your lifetime.

Emma shivered suddenly.

The mood of the town felt so strange. All wrong. And it was getting bleaker by the second. She glanced up and then gasped. A purple haze was rolling in, licking around the buildings like goblin's fingers, pawing at everything and everyone. With it came a white-hot surge of emotion. Rage, power and something more, something sinister. She could feel it flowing into her pores, churning up her insides, and for a moment she felt three things with a certainty. Magic was all powerful. It was back. And - she paused as she almost tasted the swirl of black energy – she had an urge to crush Regina beneath her heel while the scheming bitch cried out in terror. Emma recoiled.

The swirling energy was like a siren's call, drawing her to Storybrooke's most high profile and twisted practitioner of the dark arts.

Her animalistic thoughts chilled her to the core and with a supreme effort she shook off the side effects of the insidious tendrils.

With a feeling of sick dread she knew plenty of others would have far less interest in overriding the tormented, angry murmurs now whispering inside their heads. Emma broke into a jog, then a full-out run. Some very, _very_ bad crap was about to go down at a certain mayor's estate. And no way in hell was she going to have to tell Henry she didn't get there in time to stop it.

. . . . . . .

_Henry_. That was why she was here in the mayor's secret cellar, smelling crushed apples and raw fear. Emma realised the purple haze had been at her again, stoking her doubts and ramping up her rage. Its anarchical spidery fingers had been threading through her brain like a disease.

Emma thought she had seen enough _Lord of the Flies_ shit in the foster system and, later, on the streets of Boston, to ever be part of it herself. She shook herself. She would sure as hell not stand by and let the others catch up with Regina and administer mob "justice". The idea of those grasping hands ripping at Regina ... a panic welled up.

She had a purpose now, an anchor, and it made her strong. Emma would see this through.

For Henry.

Emma quickly strode back down the spiral stairs. She approached the long passageway with determination and then almost jumped out of her skin when a velvety voice next to her ear spoke in the inky void: "Took you long enough, Miss Swan."

"Where the hell did you spring from? I thought you were long gone."

"I had just been thinking the same thing about you, dear. If you're done, ruminating…?"

There was something in her tone, a questioning, a hesitation, and the sheriff realised Regina had been genuinely afraid Emma would leave her. To _them_.

She thought back to the night of the fire. _"You're going to leave me, aren't you?" _For all the poised mayor's customary bluff and bluster, Regina had her own deep insecurities, too.

Emma merely moved forward and affected not to notice the flash of relief in the other woman's eyes.

She froze as the passageway instantly lit up. She could see the tunnel ahead was a rock formation hollowed out and illuminated by an eerie blue lighting that seemed to filter from ceiling recesses, giving it an odd glow.

"Magic?" Emma wondered aloud.

"Light switch," Regina smirked and pointed to a button on the wall beside her hand. "Shall we?"

They trudged on for the better part of an hour, each keeping their own counsel.

Emma had been feeling waves of rage, ebbing and surging, off and on, and although she knew it was probably otherworldly, it took all her energy to not just round on Regina and shake her like a rag doll. Or dash her brains against the floor. She shuddered. The woman had destroyed her family. And countless others. And here was Emma, helping her _escape_.

Her logic centre fought back at the haze, as she ground her teeth, a migraine rising. No. Here was her son's other mother, who loved him, and Emma was helping her live.

For Henry.

Finally the red rage she'd felt underneath her skin for two hours lifted, as though they'd passed beyond the limits of the magic, and Emma felt instantly lighter.

"Thank God for that," Regina murmured.

"What?" Emma asked.

"I thought you were going to spend the entire escape plotting my ugly death." Regina's rich drawl was disturbingly comforting.

Emma spun to look at her. "You can read thoughts now?"

"Just facial expressions – and to be honest, you and Henry share more than a few."

"Not surprising."

"I suppose not." Regina almost … shrugged. Huh. Emma never thought she'd see the day.

They walked on for a while longer.

"Where does this lead, anyway?" Emma asked, deciding discussing their son had never boded well in the past.

"Away. To safety."

Emma rolled her eyes. "No shit. Where Regina?"

"You couldn't pronounce its real name if I told you."

"Some sort of magical realm I suppose?"

"Again with the magic, dear? Not everything I do is about the supernatural."

"Well it is the glittery elephant in the … um, tunnel."

"I suppose it is." Regina conceded. "First, tell me Miss Swan, why are _you_ here?"

The question was weighted to be casual, but Emma immediately noticed how intently the mayor was looking at her, hanging on the answer.

The sheriff looked away. She didn't deserve the truth. "To save you. It is my job description. You know - serve, protect…"

"I could have gotten out perfectly well on my own, you know," the brunette sniffed defensively.

Emma laughed at that. "Please Regina, if I hadn't shown up you'd still be trying to cram your Jimmy Choos into that fancy suitcase when Harold started using you as a toothpick."

Regina fell silent. Finally she said: "I suppose you have a point. But you still haven't told me why you're helping me. You could have killed me, my dear, and no one would have objected."

Emma felt her anger surge anew. "Trust you to think that. Do I look like a killer to you?"

"Not especially, Miss Swan. But nor are you high on my list of people who would come to my aid when trolls are attacking."

"You'd like it if I'd left you to them, wouldn't you? It'd fit in with your world view of the sort of person I am," Emma snapped. "Hell, ever since I got to Storybrooke you've been going on about how I am some boot-scraping from Boston not worthy to be in your or Henry's presence."

Emma gave a derisive laugh. "And there you are all stuck up with your fine clothes and perfect life. And the joke is you're the freaking _evil queen_!"

She heard slow clapping, echoing. "Done monologuing dear?"

Emma ground her teeth. "How can you be so smug? Even now? Christ, Regina. Maybe you really _are_ evil."

"Your problem, Miss Swan, is you are so linear. So black and white. You think just because you're not wearing the villain's hat in this piece you're somehow better than me? Next you'll be telling me you're the better mother for Henry. And we both know your credentials on that score," she hissed.

Emma felt the red surge behind her eyes a moment before her brain snapped. She stopped sharp, grabbed Regina by a lapel and thudded her roughly against the rocky wall. She felt satisfaction at the surprise she could see in the other woman's eyes, and the "oomph" as her compact body impacted cold stone. She got up into her face, eyes flashing, as Regina's brown pools grew wide.

Emma lifted the sword until it was under the brunette's chin. "Even now you don't think you're bad, do you?" she spat. "Just _misunderstood_. It would be so tempting for me to slip…" her hand quivered as the cold steel bit against the woman's neck. She could see the small hairs stand up on Regina's skin.

Emma exhaled with shuddery force. "So help me, Regina, if you ever imply I don't love my son, or am unworthy of having him in my life ever again, I might just forget which side I am on and _end_ you - as you well deserve."

Regina eyed her passively, as though a brutally sharp sword edge wasn't sitting right under her chin. "Are you quite finished, Miss Swan? You can put away your little pointy stick now," she said, nudging the sword off her neck with a disdainful shove of an elegant, manicured finger. "We both know you're not going to use it."

The fury fled as swiftly as it arrived, leaving Emma feeling disoriented. What the hell was with this place? One moment she wanted to destroy Regina, the next? She looked into the eyes watching her closely, and lowered the weapon reluctantly. The next, she was drawn to her. Like a moth to a flame.

She could feel her pulse pounding and realised adrenaline was surging through her body.

"It's the aftertaste," Regina explained quietly. "Magic as powerful as that which Rumple just unleashed, leaves a residue in the body for a while. The smallest trigger will set off a strong emotion. I am guessing your emotion for the day is _rage_." Regina let a tiny smirk curl the corner of her mouth.

Emma gritted her teeth and stepped fully away from Regina, dusting off the lapel she had grabbed earlier, flattening it back into place with a violent vigour.

"Ow," Regina protested, slapping away the thumping hand. "You are determined to turn me black and blue by the end of today, aren't you?"

"It's the least you deserve," Emma muttered and turned and resumed walking. "What kindness are you owed? You stole my family, after all."

"An unexpected bonus," Regina retorted, rubbing her neck slowly where the sword had been.

"Screw you, Your Majesty," Emma spat.

"You _wish_, my dear."

Emma's head spun back as an unexpected visual filled her electrified body. Her screwing Regina. Holy fuck. Her migraine kicked in again, and a pained sound escaped her lips. Then she was _there_.

Emma leaned forward hungrily, scraping fingertips down Regina's face until she brushed her lips. The blonde's eyes were dark with arousal. She moaned.

"Let me guess," Regina asked dryly, tilting her head. "_Lust_?"

Emma crushed her lips against the other woman's, viciously raking her tongue against her teeth. Regina opened her mouth and allowed the assault; her hand sliding up behind Emma's to push their heads closer together, tasting her. The sensation was incredible.

The searing, liquid-hot cavalcade of emotions lasted a few minutes and then it was gone. Emma's nipples were painfully erect and she could feel arousal pooling between her legs – as sharp as anything she had ever experienced. Her nerves were on fire. Her breath came in pants and when she opened her eyes Regina was staring right at her, watching her with an inscrutable expression.

The sheriff pulled her face away in shock and stared back, breathing raggedly. "What…?"

She drew her arms around herself tightly and stared at her boots. "I don't understand."

Regina regarded her closely as she ran a finger across her own lips, efficiently eliminating the rakish smear of lipstick that gave her a wanton look of disarray.

"Comes with the territory," Regina smirked. She glanced ahead. "_Come_, my dear," she said with a seductive purr, liberally lacing the word with a double meaning, and then resumed walking.

Emma's mind swirled. Why did Regina just let her do that? Where had that even come from? Confusion raced across her features as she trudged on after Regina.

. . . .

"You have a question?" Regina drawled when Emma's footfalls were getting more erratic behind her.

"I…" Emma began, shaking her head. She quickened her step to catch up. "Why did you… let me?"

"You think I _enjoyed_ that?" Regina asked with a cold sneer.

Emma cocked a disbelieving eyebrow. That kiss had been pure orgasmic napalm. Even now every part of her body still tingled from it. And Regina wasn't made of stone.

"Look," the mayor said with pursed lips as though dealing with a particularly dense pupil, "it's simple: you can't fight magic, at least not _that_ kind - because it's only a side effect, not the main spell. I knew it would pass in a moment. And besides, if it makes you feel better, you aren't a bad kisser." Her smirk widened knowingly. "Although given your _ample_ experience in the area, I suppose I shouldn't be shocked."

Emma gritted her teeth. "And you, of course, are such a vestal virgin, Your Majesty. Who knew Graham had been fucking a nun?"

Regina regarded her for a moment and let the insult wash over. Almost casually, she replied: "That reminds me, dear - Graham is alive."

.

**A/N: Just some random trivia – the chapter title is taken from my favourite Rocky Horror song. Please review, as it keeps me interested and will definitely hasten the story's progress. **


	3. Chapter 3

**THE DEBT**

**By Scribes and Scrolls**

.

CHAPTER THREE: WHO LET THE CAT OUT?

.

Emma stumbled. She spun around. "Wait. What?"

She sat down abruptly - her legs simply ceasing to function. "Graham's alive?" she asked the air in front of her.

Regina paused and sighed, walking back over and sitting down beside her.

"I suppose it's time for a break anyway," she drawled. She reached down and rubbed a heel soothingly. "These shoes really weren't made for walking," she muttered to herself.

"How can Graham be alive?" Emma demanded, staring at her. "He had a heart attack. He died in my arms." She gazed at Regina incredulously.

"In your ... _arms_?" Regina's eyes narrowed at her, her mouth twisting as though tasting something particularly unsavoury. "As I suspected."

"Yes, I _recall_," Emma said pointedly, rubbing her jaw where Regina had hit her after a string of furious accusations. "I also recall denying sleeping with your sex toy."

"Did you _want _to?" Regina asked silkily.

Emma glared at her. "Is _this _why we're discussing Graham? My God you're slippery."

"Answer me! You slept with him, didn't you." Regina was regarding her like prey, dark eyes burning.

"Why do you care any more?" Emma genuinely confused. It's not like the mayor loved him - she'd said as much.

"Idle curiousity," Regina declared indifferently.

Emma snorted. "Uh huh. We are _not _talking about this. So, your turn - Graham is alive?"

Regina huffed in annoyance.

Emma simply set her jaw and waited.

Finally Regina exhaled, stared at her black pants and began flicking non-existent lint off her thigh as she said matter-of-factly: "When the curse lifted it also restored anyone who died of supernatural causes while it was in place. Part of Rumple's ridiculous fine print. I imagine it was his own insurance policy against ... unexpected accidents."

"But ... Graham had a heart attack. Not ... there was no ... magic... was there?," Emma stammered, her statement gradually morphing into a question. She suddenly realised this made a hell of a lot more sense than the "diseased heart" the coroner's report claimed Graham had had.

"Graham certainly had a broken heart," Regina declared with a tiny quirk of her mouth. "But you'll be delighted to know now it's been regenerated." She watched Emma's reaction closely under her eye lashes.

Emma shook her head. "But we _buried _him!"

"Did we?" Regina offered a knowing smile. "It's amazing how much power you have when you run a whole town. Let's just say he's been in a safe place since his 'death'. And since he's doubtlessly awoken now the curse has ended, he is probably stalking around the forest right about now looking for a deer to slay, if I know him."

She waved her hand as though it were of no consequence.

Emma's eyes narrowed. Something didn't add up.

"And how did he come by this 'sudden magical death by broken heart'?" the sheriff asked suspiciously. "A death not long after you thought he was betraying you, I might add."

Regina snorted. "Are you accusing me of killing your lover?"

Emma laughed mirthlessly. "Oh, nice try."

"You _are _accusing me of being a killer, though," Regina eyed her.

"Well are you? You are the Evil Queen, right?" Emma snapped, her fingers formed air quotes around the grandiose title.

"We've been over your linear thinking, my dear. Tell me, if someone isn't really dead, how can they be killed?"

"Fair question," Emma said smoothly. "OK, did you know he could be resurrected when you killed him? Intent is everything, you know."

"Of course I did."

Emma smiled coldly. Such a simple trap. "So you _did _kill him. _YOU_..."

"In case it has escaped your notice, he is ALIVE." Regina snapped in fury, irritation contorting her face.

"And how do _I_ know that? I only have your word," Emma glared. Her super power always fritzed around this maddening woman.

"My dear, believe whatever you want," Regina snatched her hand off her thigh. "Besides - when have I ever cared what _you _think?"

Emma peered at Regina, feeling a stab in her guts. "I guess you never have," she said quietly. "Why start now."

Surprise flitted across the other woman's face. "Have I somehow finally managed to offend you, Miss Swan? After all we've been through these months, _now _you crack?" She looked incredulous.

"Yeah," Emma whispered.

Why did she even care what the sick bitch thought of her?

And yet. She did.

She spoke so softly, Regina strained to hear her last words. "Well done."

. . . .

They had been walking in silence for another half hour. Emma was having a hard time processing that Regina had sort of admitted she had killed/but not really killed Graham. Was that the equivalent of assault? Did it make her more evil or less? Her head hurt.

"Where did you get the sword?" Regina suddenly asked. "You couldn't have enough time to return to the library for it."

"Off a dwarf."

Regina missed a step and Emma couldn't help swallowing her smile. It was rare to make the regal mayor falter. The sheriff fell back a little as a sound caught her attention behind her.

"Well, I suppose I must congratulate you," Regina replied. "It's no easy feat slaying a dragon. Especially one as devious as _her_. Maleficent's sharp tongue was both friend and foe to me for years. We once studied magic together a lifetime ago - although we were ideologically opposed in the end. It is regrettable it came to that. But... Miss Swan?

"MISS SWAN!"

Emma stuck her head out of a side alcove she had been investigating. Seems rats could get into anything - even secret magic tunnels. Problem was their sound was amplified and distorted by the weird harmonics. She shouldered the sword, satisfied there was nothing to worry about.

Then she heard Regina's roar. _What the hell?_

She flew around the corner and only slowed when she realised Regina was in no danger. But she could easily see how pale her face was, alarm written across it.

"What?"

"WHERE WERE YOU?" Regina demanded, hands on hips in her favourite power pose.

"I heard something. I went to investigate." Emma shrugged. "Rats."

"You might have warned me you were just going to disappear!" the mayor's tone was downright anguished now, dripping with offended betrayal.

Emma blinked uncertainly. "I thought there might be danger. I thought that's why I was here. To_ protect you_." She knew she sounded defensive.

"I have no idea why you're _really _here, Miss Swan, but what just happened was unacceptable." She gathered her hands into white-knuckled fists and put them behind her back. Emma realised her hands had actually been shaking.

"Regina - I promise you this - I am here for your safety. And that will come first."

Regina flushed and turned away. "Of course, Miss Swan," she said neutrally, her mask dropping back into place. She walked on.

Emma shook her head and strode after her. Testy thing. And totally paranoid. Same old, same old, really. But she clearly didn't like being left alone in the dark. Or was it just alone in general?

The mayor obviously had major abandonment issues. Emma pondered that. Had Regina been alone, _ever_? Hell, she'd even adopted a kid so she always have someone around. The sheriff, on the other hand, liked her own company. No one to rely on but herself. And if she got let down, she only had herself to blame.

But Regina. Well, hell. Talk about a whole different animal. Ahead of her Emma could see the brunette was deliberately not looking at her. But her body language screamed rigidity. Distress.

Hmm. Definitely a whole different animal.

. . . . .

There was not much speaking for the rest of their journey. Emma had decided she needed space from a woman whose mere presence kept jangling her emotional wellbeing and who had a disturbingly relaxed view on ending lives - albeit temporarily. Regina, in turn, still looked appalled at having had a panic attack in front of her. She now wore a permanent expression of sucking lemons and was obviously keeping her distance.

That suited Emma just fine.

The blonde pulled out her cell phone to check reception. Maybe she should find out what was happening back home. She found a text from Mary Margaret - _Snow_, she reminded herself - from earlier, agreeing to look after Henry.

But... no bars. _Just great_.

"You're in a concertina passageway, Miss Swan, you will not get any reception until we surface," the mayor spoke suddenly. "And even then, only in one specific spot."

"A concertina passageway?"

"Think of it as a paper fan. Closed it's a short space to cross; fanned out, it is much wider. Every few steps we take down here is a kilometre in reality, outside. But all time and distance-folding magic pretty much kills cellphone reception," she gave an amused smile. It fell away at Emma's less-than-intrigued look.

"At the end of the tunnel, just above the exit, will be the only spot you will get a signal - as your phone will think it is both here and there simultaneously. It's hard to explain. Think of it like Schrodinger's cat."

"Um, whose cat?"

"I am guessing quantum physics wasn't part of your public schooling repertoire?"

"We had a school hamster once. Does that count?"

"Never mind, dear." The mayor rolled her her eyes and Emma felt completely stupid. Which was probably the point.

"It's not too much further," Regina interrupted her thoughts a few minutes later.

How she knew where they were was a complete mystery to Emma, because the tunnel seemed the same as it had for the past two-and-a-half hours.

As they pressed on, Emma noticed Regina slowly becoming lost in thought, her eyes and shoulders dropping. Emma finally realised her companion was becoming more deflated the closer they came to the exit.

The passage eventually began to rise and they came around a short bend to stare up to a metal-runged ladder, stretching up to the surface. Above was a circular hatch, glowing bright blue.

"We're here, Miss Swan," Regina said redundantly. She shifted from her left foot to her right and back again. Suddenly she captured Emma's green eyes with her own, spearing her brown gaze into hers. The mayor cleared her throat brusquely and finally spoke.

"I expect this, Miss Swan is ... is where we part ways. For good. You will look after Henry."

It wasn't a question.

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**Author's note: Schrodinger's cat refers to a theoretical quantum physics experiment from 1935 as a way to illustrate how a particle can be in multiple places at once. Schrodinger argued you could put a cat in a steel vault or box, add poison (or not - it's random as to whether the poison goes in). At a pivotal moment, before the vault/box is opened, when scientists are unaware of whether the poison went in, the cat is simultaneously alive AND dead. Trust Regina to think of that example. My chapter title is dedicated to all the theoretical cats who got out alive. Go pusses. :-)  
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**Please feed the pigeons, I mean the author - with reviews. It keeps me motivated.  
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	4. Chapter 4

**THE DEBT**  
**By Scribes and Scrolls**

**CHAPTER FOUR - UP THE BLUE HATCH**

Emma stared in astonishment at Regina. "What? I'm not leaving you now. You don't know what's waiting for you up there."

"No, _you _don't know. _I_ do. As I said, this is where we part ways."

Emma set her jaw stubbornly. "I made a promise and I intend to honour it. I will keep you safe and I can't very well do that if I am back in Storybrooke."

"What promise?" Regina asked silkily, leaning forward with interest.

Emma rolled her eyes. "To you. Back in the tunnel. One rat-scare ago."

Regina looked vaguely disappointed. She tried another tack. "It's not just what's up there but how long you'll be trapped if you come with me. This is a magic locking system which stays open for a set time once activated - I triggered it when the cellar's back wall opened - and it'll automatically shut down soon. It's a protection mechanism, so no one can follow."

Regina put her hands on her hips. "So, my dear, do you _really _intend to leave Henry all alone and motherless - _again_? Especially given I can look after myself - and have done long before you ambled along."

Emma narrowed her eyes, not impressed at being manipulated so overtly, and particularly using Henry. Regina actually seemed to wither a little under her reproachful gaze.

The blonde folded her arms. "And just how long does this magical lock stay shut for?" she asked.

"A dillennial. That's a magical term of time. It varies - depending on how much magic is in the area. The more magic, the longer it stays shut. I really can't be more precise." Regina pursed her lips.

Emma eyed the hatch, biting her lip thoughtfully. "So what is the minimum I would be trapped for up there, anyway?"

Regina looked decidedly unhelpful. "I really have no idea how much magic is on the other side, which alters the constant. Who knows. It could be a very long time."

The blonde's nostrils flared. Her spidey senses were telling her Regina wasn't being entirely honest - but it was hard to sift out what she was lying about. And she didn't want to risk the consequences if the brunette was actually being truthful.

Emma's shoulders slumped in defeat and Regina gave a half smile at her victory.

Well this was goodbye then. The blonde moved forward automatically to ... _hell! Hug Regina goodbye?_! ... Her eyes widened in shock at her body's innate response at the same time that Regina's own surprise registered. They both recoiled as if burned and jumped back swiftly.

Regina glared. "Miss Swan you _really _should learn to keep your hands to yourself."

Emma flushed: "Says the woman who let me kiss her!"

Regina rolled her eyes. "A hug is intimate. A kiss is ... nothing," she stated. She waved a hand. "Especially a kiss from you."

_She just couldn't resist twisting the knife, _Emma scowled.

There were so many things wrong with her reasoning, that the sheriff didn't know where to begin. And she couldn't be bothered. So she shrugged and stuck out her hand.

"I can't say it's been pleasant," she offered, "but it's definitely been interesting."

Regina stared at the hand for a moment as though it were a rearing snake before finally clasping it.

"Finally something we agree on, Miss Swan."

Regina gave a wide, dazzling smile as they shook hands, and Emma found herself smiling back. There was something intoxicating about Regina Mills when she chose to be charming.

The sheriff preferred not to notice that her hand tingled at the warmth of the other woman's clasped in hers. No time to analyse _that_.

"I meant it when I said you must look after Henry," Regina said sternly, dropping her hand and turning to the ladder. "You will have to step up for both of us."

Emma debated giving a parting smart-alec comment but decided there had been too much animosity already. So she simply said: "I will." And then she watched the other woman ascend nimbly up the ladder, pivoting a handle under a blue shimmering ring of light before popping it open.

Emma strained to see what lay beyond but all she could make out was the sky and the hint of treetops.

She expected the cover to be slammed back any second, but instead Regina's face filled the circle and gazed down. For a moment she didn't speak. Then she said: "Goodbye. _Emma_." She held her eyes and the blonde thought, for just a moment, she could see into her soul, as her mask slipped down. She saw aching sadness, fear, regret and loneliness. Then Regina closed the hatch and blackness replaced her face.

Emma continued staring at the hatch, which still glowed blue - for now - her thoughts racing. It seemed inconceivable to her that it was the last she would ever see of Regina Mills. A woman who had imposed herself into the centre of the blonde's universe these past few months, for better and worse - mainly worse.

She thought of the time Regina had stepped nose to nose to her at the mine site - the day Emma wondered, absurdly given where they were, whether she was about to be kissed. She remembered the surreal moment Regina punched her. How she'd tried to _poison_ _her_ for God's sake! The moment she looked in her eyes and had admitted it was all true. _All of it._ The day she'd eyed the borrowed blue shirt Emma was wearing as though she wanted to rip it off her back. And the many, many times she had warned her off Henry.

Regina Mills leaving meant that Henry was now hers - without interference, and with all the responsibility that entailed. It was a powerful and humbling experience.

_Henry_. Emma pulled out her cellphone and checked for a reception. Still no bars. She was about to put it back in her pocket and head for home when one bar flickered on and then off on the display panel. She waved the phone about again, trying to see where the better reception came from. It was near the ladder.

She moved until she was standing right under it and one solid bar appeared. She remembered what Regina had said about only being able to get reception in one spot. Up top.

She dropped her sword and scampered up the ladder, eyeing the phone closely, watching as the number of bars increased the closer she got to the glowing hatch.

At the top of the ladder she had full reception. Emma beamed, and hit Mary Margaret's number, clinging tightly to the rungs. _Go Schrodinger's cat._ Whatever the hell that meant.

The phone rang for a while and then a familiar voice answered.

"Miss Blanchard's phone. I mean Snow White's. This is Henry speaking."

Emma grinned. "Hey kid," she said.

"EMMA!" he screamed. His voice became distant as he turned. "Grandma, it's Emma!"

The sheriff laughed aloud at that. "How does she like being called 'Grandma', kid?"

Henry giggled. "I don't know yet, it's the first time I've done it. She's chopping onions in the kitchen. Did you save Mom? Are you OK? No one could find you! They said it was like you'd disappeared into thin air. Grandma saw a troll. Where are you?"

"Whoa, hey kid, slow down. I'm in a safe place. We had a bit of a hike, but Regina's OK now."

"Are you coming home then? Where is Mom?"

"I'm not exactly sure on both counts. Hey kid, you still got the book with you?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Does it mention anything about a dillennial - a magical measurement of time? How long it actually is?"

"Hang on. Oh - here's Grandma, I'll put her on and go find out."

There was a pause, a clang, a rustle, scampering noises and then Mary Margaret. Er, Snow. Hell, she'd always be Mary Margaret to Emma.

"Emma?"

"Hey."

"Oh Em, I'm so glad you're OK, I was worried sick! What were you THINKING putting yourself in harm's way like that! The magic driving the mob was very powerful. You might have been killed!"

Emma swallowed a smile and then said: "I know ... Thanks for caring. _Mom_." Ew, that felt weird. Emma paused. "I'm fine. How's Henry?"

Silence. "Perfectly safe and healthy. It's you I'm worried about. Things are slowly getting back to normal here. Well as normal as possible. Although Rumplestiltskin is missing and there was this _troll_..."

"Ah yes," Emma chuckled. "Ugly bastards aren't they? Is everyone OK?"

"Yes Red - that's Ruby - chased it away."

"Wait, Ruby? As in sexy waitress Ruby? Took on a troll?"

"Not just a troll - a giant, too. She was very, um, _dogged_," Mary Margaret said diplomatically.

"Huh?" Emma asked and shook her head, feeling there was a lot more her mother wasn't telling her. She heard a rustling and then her son's exuberant tones asking to speak to her.

"I found it," he told her excitedly. He began to read: "A dillennial takes a minimum of one week of real time to pass, lasting up to a month if there is magic in the area. How close to a month depends on how much magic has been used."

Emma suddenly suppressed the urge to say some very, very bad words. Regina had certainly led her to believe she would be trapped for a hell of a lot longer than that. She supposed that was the point. _Clever little..._

"Emma? Are you still there?" Henry asked.

"Yeah I am kid. Hey, would you be OK if I was gone for ... well, between a week and a month? I just want to make sure Regina is gonna be alright in her new home before I leave her there."

"Of course," Henry said quickly. "You have to make sure she's safe, Emma! It's your job!"

There was muffled talking in the background and suddenly Mary Margaret came on the line.

"Emma, who are you making sure is safe? How long will you be? Where are you anyway?"

"I'll be a couple more weeks - a month at most. I want to ... protect Regina."

There was a silence and Emma swore she could almost hear the brunette grinding her teeth.

"Emma," she said quietly, to ensure her grandson couldn't hear, "that woman ruined all our lives. Now you want to risk your neck again to save her? I am really hoping you can explain to me why that is." There was a steel to the brunette's voice Emma had never heard before and she wondered if it was born out of fear, or whether this was Snow's true personality coming to the fore. It was unsettling. It was like Mary Margaret's sassy, bolder, slightly patronising twin had picked up the phone.

"I know it doesn't make a lot of sense," Emma sighed heavily. "I know what she did to you, and what she took from me. But I also know I want to make sure Henry doesn't lose his mother - the one he's known for most of his life. I know what that's like to be without your mom. And it sucks."

"Emma you _have _a mother now. I am right here," the other woman said with determination. She inhaled sharply. "Emma - I am _not _OK with this. You think you know what Regina is like? Yes, she manipulates and lies. But the real Regina is _far _worse than that. She lures people into her traps and she torments and tortures them for months or years. Is that really someone you want in Henry's life? Emma - I know you think I am too forgiving, so listen closely when I tell you this: Regina Mills is _evil_. Do not trust a _single word _she says. Do _not _help her. She is not looking out for you. She is only looking out for herself. She would kill you in a second if it suited her."

There was a longer pause, and the brunette added: "And we really can't lose you again."

Emma scowled. Everyone kept declaring Regina evil. She had a hard time believing anyone could simply be rotten to the core. Maybe it was growing up outside of Storybrooke, or seeing damaged kids who got that way through other people's evil _actions. _And even then, you just had to look in their sad eyes to know half of them would take back the thoughtless shit they'd done. And the rest, the ones with angry, angry faces hiding a world of horrible secrets, they just wanted the pain to end. Permanently. And if it didn't, they'd punish anyone else around them. Nothing else mattered.

So Emma had never bought the 'so and so is just evil' line. It made her wince every time Henry declared it about his adoptive mother. She expected that naivete from a small child - but what of her own mother? Maybe Regina had been wicked once. Had revelled in it even. But Emma had looked at Regina's heart and could see the conflict now. She could see the way she was with Henry. She knew what she'd done to Graham. Hell, what she'd tried to do to her. But still, those eyes... pure evil shouldn't look tormented and sad. _Should it?_

She glanced up and realised the blue halo above her head was starting to flicker. It was now or never.

"Emma?" she heard her mother's worried voice call out. "I want you back here now. Away from her."

"Well you know what they say, Mary Margaret - you keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Love ya both. Gotta go," she called out and hung up.

She scampered down the ladder, stuffing the phone in her pocket on the way, grabbed the sword on the ground, then flew up again like a mountain goat, popping the lid.

She leaped up and outside, dropping the hatch just as the blue light blinked out. She tested the handle again and found, just as Regina had told her, she could no longer open it.

Even as she stared, the lid disappeared to be replaced by what seemed to be a rock. She waved her hand through it. _Ooh, a cool light trick_. Part of its safety protocol, it would seem. _Nice_.

Emma looked about. Far from being some mystical new realm that she had expected, she was in a forest, little different from any other she had ever seen. The only oddity was four birds, a white ring of feathers around their necks, flying in a distinct formation towards her. They circled as though examining her, clicking strange, almost mechanical, noises to each other, and then flapped away.

Weird.

She slowly turned around, trying to spot Regina. A small distance away she realised she could see a familiar shape, sitting on a downed tree trunk, head bowed. She was not moving.

Emma frowned and quickly crossed the uneven undergrowth towards her. She was side-stepping a twisted root and fern when Regina glanced up and froze at the sight of her. The brunette appeared to quickly wipe her eyes but she continued to stare at Emma as though she were an impossible mirage.

Emma stared evenly back, finally identifying the expression on her face. Utter bleakness.

"I thought you were long gone. Halfway back home to your _family_. And _my son_." The bitterness was palpable. And if her chin hadn't quivered at the wrong moment, it would have been a rather effective attempt at a snarl.

Emma edged herself on to the log beside her, fumbling around inside her pocket.

She handed a tissue wordlessly to Regina who stared disdainfully at the unused but tatty bundle and said dryly. "I am not quite at rock bottom just yet, Miss Swan."

Emma chuckled. "Fair enough," she said, pocketing the worse-for-wear handful. "Although it wasn't used."

Regina gazed at her feet. Embarrassed.

"Why are you here," she finally asked gruffly, after clearing her throat.

Emma looked at her own boots uncertainly. She did not do displays of emotion, goddamnit. Especially not with Regina Mills. "Someone has to keep an eye on you," she eventually offered with a small smirk.

Regina glanced at her, red-rimmed eyes searching her face. "You're the sorriest spy or advance guard I ever saw. So Snow sent you to make sure I didn't get up to more empire building any time soon?"

Emma tilted her head. "Not Snow, no. She was of the view I should keep my distance from you given you'd kill me in a second if it suited you."

Regina snorted. "My, my, they grow up so fast." She tilted her head and drilled the blonde with hard brown eyes. "She is right you know. If you had any sense at all you'd run far away from me. My reputation isn't exactly built on nothing." She scowled and nudged a half buried rock with her shoe. "I could kill you by twitching my little finger."

Emma looked at the offending digit, clenching Regina's knee tightly.

"Well what's stopping you? No magic?"

Regina snarled, flicking her hand open and a small, snapping, arcing, fireball appeared. They both stared at it, fascinated. Regina sighed and closed her fist. It fizzled out. "Not in the mood," she mumbled.

Emma knew instantly she was lying. But she was still gaping at the hand. It's one thing hearing someone has magic. It's quite another seeing it for yourself. She had slain a dragon and seen trolls and a giant, watched an unholy purple mist roll in that did seriously messed up things with her brain chemistry. But none of that seemed even slightly impressive compared to this darkly conflicted woman who literally crackled with raw power, sitting, subdued, on a log beside her. _Depressed_.

"So if Snow didn't send you, who did?" Regina asked. Her voice was hoarse.

Emma shrugged non-commitally.

"Well it's not that fool James - the man was so doe-eyed for Snow he would just sit in his cell and wail at the heavens about her. _Pathetic_," she muttered. "He wouldn't do anything without her say-so."

Emma bit back her first response when she realised Regina's eyes were leaking. A lonely tear streaked down the side of her face, followed by another. The brunette snatched a hand across her cheek, irritated at her weakness, and smeared the wetness away.

"You're having a pretty freaking lousy day, aren't you," Emma observed - and then was shocked she'd said it out loud.

Regina's head snapped to one side to glare at her. "Oh I see - you're here to gloat. How the mighty have fallen? _Is that it?_"

"Well to be fair, Regina, I never really saw you as 'mighty' in the first place," Emma noted placidly, twirling the point of her sword in the dirt in front of her. "Isn't that what pissed you off the most?"

"What pissed me off, to use your vulgar language, Miss Swan, is that the one person who didn't deserve my son won his love without even trying while I..." she faded out.

Yeah, Emma agreed silently. That did have to hurt. She'd never even tried and he'd loved her instantly. Regina was loathed from the moment Henry had opened that book. Maybe before. She'd love to know the history there. Although she was unlikely to get any sense out of the other woman now.

The blonde cleared her throat and said: "You know, Henry has explained to me what a dillennial really is." Emma waited for her response with curiosity.

"Ah," she replied, pursing her lips. "So how is our son?" Regina asked casually but she was definitely interested.

It was the first time Emma had ever heard the mayor call Henry theirs. "Happy and healthy, Regina. Nothing to worry about."

The brunette gave a tiny smile and then straightened, much more composed, but dreadfully pale. And she still looked humiliated. Emma decided a change of subject was in order.

"So have you got some five-star luxury bolt-hole stashed away somewhere around here?" she asked lightly. "I'm dying to wash dragon spittle off me."

Regina looked faintly startled at the shift in gears. "I do. But five-star might be a bit of a stretch. 'Rustic', I think would be the real-estate term."

She rose and began to walk but glanced back to the sheriff. "I suppose you'd better come, too. Can't leave you to the more ferocious wildlife and make Henry an orphan, now can we?"

The "tempting as it might be" she left hanging unspoken in the air.

Emma watched as Regina headed off without her, her hips containing a hint of her usual confident swagger. The sheriff gave a small smirk, shouldered her sword and followed.


	5. Chapter 5

**THE DEBT**  
**By Scribes and Scrolls**

**CHAPTER FIVE - ONE-STAR RUSTIC**

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**Author's note: Sorry for the wait - I have been down for the count, sick as a dog. Just ask my poor beta reader, indiana, who rejected my first few efforts at chapter 5, written at the height of a fevered delirium. (I swear they made complete sense in my head!) In compensation for the delay, I give you all a triple-length chapter.**

. . . . .

It took about half an hour to reach a small clearing, and along the way the two women hadn't spoken much. Emma had surreptitiously checked her cellphone to see if Regina had been right about reception. True enough - nothing at all. If she wanted to talk to Storybrooke, she'd have to do it from where they'd exited. She made a mental note of the route so she could retrace her steps later. She turned off the phone to conserve its battery and looked around.

"So where are we exactly?" Emma asked.

"_Exactly _is such a precise term," Regina mused. "We are in a part of the Infinite Forest. And due to a rather clever spell I traded off a talented crone for a pair of golden unicorns, its exact location appears to keep shifting within the forest. It makes it very hard for enemy spies to track this down," she said, and waved at a cottage that just came into view. Emma blinked. Had that been there a minute ago? She wasn't sure.

Five stars it wasn't. Not even close. She eyed the hand water pump out front. A thatched roof. _Seriously_? And a rather charming red-painted wooden door, nestled in the vine-covered grey stone cottage walls. She could see what seemed to be a very hi-tech rainwater tank to one side - which boded well for indoor plumbing. _Thank god._

Regina placed her hand on the door, and it suddenly opened, as though recognising her.

"Magic? Oooh," Emma noted, impressed.

"Actually, state-of-the-art, solar-cell-powered biometrics recognition system. And I won't be using magic while you're here."

"Why not?"

"I cannot use it if you are to return to Henry sooner rather than later. The hatch lock will _know_."

Regina pointed the way inside and then leaned heavily against the doorway, her face tight. Emma looked around curiously. To her right was a kitchen nook - complete with a wood-fired oven. A little round wooden table and two dusty old chairs sat nearby. In front of her was a compact two-seat sofa facing a fireplace. Emma glanced left and discovered the cosy living room also doubled as a bedroom - she took in the spacious comfortable bed. Queen-sized. Emma grinned. _Naturally_.

She could see two other doors - one external, and the other... she glanced enquiringly at Regina who had been following her gaze around the room with hooded eyes.

"The bathroom," the brunette supplied. "This might be rustic, but some things I will not skimp on."

Emma poked her head in and had an internal laugh at the gleaming tiles and quality pedestal toilet. There was a basin with a cold water tap and no shower. No bath, either. _What_?

When she pulled her head out again to ask, she saw Regina was making her own slow tour of the cottage, her hand drifting subconsciously onto the edges of the furniture - fingertipping the pale blue crocheted spread on the bed, the black leather on the couch. She paused before a large glass-doored cabinet in the kitchen, containing drawers and cupboards, stocked with jars of jams, preserves and chutneys. Regina appeared to be staring at the contents with a disapproving grimness. Finally Emma realised she was actually looking at her own reflection in the glass.

Emma sucked in a breath. Of course. This bolt hole must represent nothing more than failure to Regina. The emergency hideout she probably never hoped to have to use as that. Proof of defeat in every crevice, dust bunny and ancient stick of creaky old furniture.

The blonde walked slowly to stand behind Regina and their eyes met in the cupboard door's reflection.

For a moment they said nothing. Emma's eyes flicked to the contents of the cabinet. The preserves were bottled three decades ago, Emma noted, judging by the faded, dusty labels. Was that how long it'd been for her? Away from here, living life in her new world - winning?

Emma's eyes locked back on to brown ones fighting to veil their misery.

"The place is nice, Regina. It'll do for however long you need it. And then you'll go off and make a fresh start."

Well it wasn't quite her 'win one for the Gipper' speech, but it's the only thing Emma could think to say.

"You know nothing about anything," the brunette growled, her jaw tightening. "You wouldn't have the first idea what it is like to start fresh here. This place is filled with people who would sooner cut my throat than look at me."

"And yet here you stand," Emma countered. "Still alive. And I might remind you it's little different in Storybrooke. I'd say you were lucky."

"LUCKY?" Regina raged. "Oh, yes, I feel very lucky right now. My son is gone. My entire existence is gone. My victory ... a pile of _ashes_."

She turned and, with Emma just behind her, Regina was suddenly right inside the blonde's space. The sheriff could smell the faint wisp of apple scent she had always associated with the mayor. She could see the vein in her forehead jumping. "Do you have any idea what this is like?" Regina demanded. "Can you even imagine the crushing scale of _defeat_?" Her voice hitched and her face flashed with irritation at her loss of control.

Emma blinked at her. "You mean to have no one who loves you, to be friendless? To make your way in the world without family and allies? To expect and receive cruelty instead of kindness? To feel lost, afraid. _Alone_? Now how would _I _have any idea what that's like?"

The two women glared at each other for a few more beats before finally Regina relented.

"Fine. We have both suffered."

"The difference, Regina, is I suffered because of _you_. Your suffering is of your own making."

Regina grimaced. "So you plan to stay here and rub my nose in this every day then? Is _that _why you're here? A little cocktail of vengeance you and Snow dreamed up to punish me every hour on the hour?"

"God you are IMPOSSIBLE!" Emma threw up her hands. "And not a little paranoid."

"And you have yet to explain yourself, Miss Swan. _Why. Are. You. Here_?" she ground out the question and crossed her arms. Her eyes flashed challengingly.

"Symmetry," Emma replied, hiding her enjoyment at the confused look washing Regina's features.

"Tell me NOW. I am letting you stay here. You wouldn't last two minutes past my cottage door before some mythical creature took a liking to you. And out here they disembowel first, ask questions later."

Emma gave a small cold smile. "I should be _grateful _you're letting me stay? Really? From the woman who had a full-scale meltdown when I left her side for _three minutes _in the tunnel?"

"And they say _I'm_ the cruel one," Regina ground out harshly. Her hands formed tight white fists, clearly remembering her panicked wash of emotions.

"Well you did curse an entire town. Overkill much?"

"You know _nothing_. _Nothing _about what I was going through. _Nothing _about what was done to me. How I _suffered_."

"Then enlighten me, Regina. It's not like we don't have the time." Emma sighed, some of her aggravation leaving her, realising butting heads with Regina, as always, got them nowhere.

"No! You wouldn't understand," the brunette exhaled, going from outraged to despairing. She sagged and leaned her head tiredly against the glass cabinetry. It immediately fogged up and Emma reached over, concerned, to feel her forehead.

It was burning up.

"Whoa, Regina? You're on fire."

"You say that to all the girls?" Regina mumbled, her eyes fluttering shut.

"Only the hot crazy ones," Emma joked. It faded when she realised she had just called Regina hot. _Out loud._Hell.

The other woman started and her eyes blinked opened again. But instead of some acerbic comeback, she simply shook her head. "I must get to the pool." She turned and began to walk ... hobble more precisely ... towards the cottage's back door.

"What, wait! Regina? Where are we going?"

"I don't care where YOU go, Miss Swan. _I _need to get to ..." her words came out thickly as though her tongue was suddenly too large for her mouth. She faded out with the effort.

Emma bolted ahead and opened the door for her and saw a small cobblestone winding path leading through some bushes.

She hesitated and then slipped her arm around the mayor's waist for support and tensed, expecting her to fight her off. But instead Regina simply sighed and leaned into her. "This way," the brunette mumbled redundantly, her arm waving towards the path.

After a few minutes they rounded some low bushes, and came to a strange pool, with a faint lavender mist . It was simmering gently, and emitting a warm energy. It smelled, curiously, like vanilla.

"A natural hot spring," Regina explained tiredly. "It's not only for cleansing but healing. There are only two of these anywhere in the world."

She pointed to a flat rock nearby. "And it comes with a washing machine."

Emma was unsure whether she was joking. In spite of her precarious state, Regina smirked tiredly at Emma's shocked face. "You really are a city slicker, aren't you, Miss Swan?"

Emma folded her arms. "And I had no idea how provincial you really are, Madame Mayor - you certainly hid it well behind your designer suits and fancy car."

Regina shrugged. Emma could see she was finding talking a struggle.

The mayor, helped by Emma, lowered herself to the rocks and reached for her shoes. Emma was there first, gently easing an absurdly tight heel off one foot which had swollen badly at the ankle. Regina bit her lip, tears springing to her eyes but said nothing.

The blonde gaped as she stared at what now lay in her hands. Regina's foot was a raw, bloodied mess - massive blisters, burst, had ripped gashes into her skin. She recalled what the mayor had half-whispered in the tunnel: Her shoes weren't made for walking. That was it - all she'd ever said by way of complaint.

The sheriff considered the mayor's more recent words - that Emma knew nothing about what the mayor had endured. If the tortured fleshy mess before her didn't even rate a comment, the sheriff suddenly wondered what sort of agonies Regina did rate as painful. The idea chilled her.

"Shit, Regina," Emma muttered sympathetically at the sight before her, tackling the other shoe. "Why didn't you say something? Your feet are so messed up - if not infected already."

The brunette bit her lip harder and then gasped as the second shoe came off. "I must get into the water."

Emma helped her to the edge until she could lower herself, barefoot, clothes and all, into the warm bubbles.

Regina sighed in ecstasy, a primal moan so throaty and evocative Emma felt awkward just being there to hear it. She blushed at her body's response, which was clearly enjoying the brunette's pleasure way too much. She scowled. Really, now was not the time to feel _that _for a woman who had destroyed so much.

_Right?_

The mayor gave another delighted shudder. Her face was transformed by joy and relief. She then lifted a foot out of the burbling waters to inspect it.

Emma's mouth fell open. The foot was now perfect. The mangled flesh had repaired itself, with no mark or scar. Before she could stop herself, Emma reached over and ran her fingers gently along the soft skin, watching as it goosepimpled under her touch. Regina glanced up, and quickly lowered her foot to the water, shifting away a little.

It wasn't just her foot that seemed rejuvenated. The mayor's colour had turned from ghastly white to ruddy pink. Her eyes even sparkled.

"That's some pool, Regina," Emma whispered, beyond impressed, curling her hand into a fist where it still tingled from the sensation of stroking the other woman's bare skin. "Now I see why you have no shower or bath at the cottage."

Regina laughed, still on a high from her healing experience no doubt, and Emma sucked in a breath at the startling sound.

"For a former bounty hunter you don't seem to fully grasp the concept of bolt holes, Miss Swan. The idea is to be _off _the grid. Completely. As in no electrical or magical hotspots for any pesky location spells to home in on. That's why my cottage is not connected to any power supply, even for water heating."

Emma soaked in the carefree expression on the mayor's face. "Fair point. But even if you weren't hiding out, this pool is better than the best spa at any of the world's top resorts."

Regina leaned back against the rock edge. "That it is," she said blissfully, closing her eyes. "Now could you be a dear and fetch me a towel and a change of clothes?"

She settled lazily back and seemed content to assume Emma would jump up and do her bidding. Emma stared at her a moment longer, wondering if she would ever see Regina looking like this ever again. She was so - _happy_. Sure it was probably post-magic-healing bliss-bomb happy, but she looked so calm, warm ... beautiful ... that Emma couldn't help but just gaze.

Regina cracked an eye: "Problem?" she drawled. "There's a wardrobe by the bed. Anything off the top shelf will be fine." She waved a hand in the vague direction of the cottage.

Emma swallowed. "Uh. Right. _Please_?" she added pointedly and waited.

"You're welcome," Regina, replied with a flash of teeth, her mouth curving into an amused smile.

Emma rolled her eyes and headed back up the path, her legs strangely wobbly. She wondered at what Regina's life would have been like if she was like this all the time. Not a tightly wound, control-freaking bundle of rules and orders. But zen and serene. Content to float in a healing pool in her smart mayoral suit and not give a shit about anything.

Emma really liked this incarnation of Regina.

By the time Emma returned, bearing aloft a rather fetching vest and pair of breeches she'd found in the wardrobe, the mayor was naked.

Below the water level and its frothy bubbles, true, but still naked. Emma froze at the sight of all the brunette's clothes laid out on the flat rock, having been rinsed and rubbed clean. A small, dry, worn leather satchel lay beside the wet clothes. _Where had that come from? _She slid her eyes beyond, to the shimmering pink flesh below the water line.

Regina spotted her and gave a slow, almost predatory, smile. Emma almost stumbled. Ah yes. She remembered _this _Regina.

The brunette began walking slowly in Emma's direction, toward the edge of the pool, rising higher as the ground gradually sloped up. As she did so, more and more of her bare, wet chest became evident. When she was a few inches from breaking public decency laws Emma put up her hand hurriedly. "Um, that's fine Regina - I'll just leave these here and take your wet clothes and hang them up. Saw a clothes line out back before and uh..."

She was babbling. Lord, how she was babbling. The smooth expanse of Regina's nude body was doing some powerful mojo to her brain chemistry. She left the bundle of clothes by the pool edge, a towel on top, and started to back away, eyes transfixed.

Regina cocked an eyebrow. "I didn't take you for being the prudish type, Miss Swan," she husked, seeming to bask in the sheriff's discomfort. She chuckled and took one final, deliberate, step forward, high enough now for her to have broken all those decency laws. Her breasts were plainly in view and a shot of liquid heat smacked Emma in her core. She blushed ferociously and turned instantly.

"I'll be back at the cottage," she muttered and took off at a rapid, stumbling pace, scowling at the bemused laughing she heard behind her. _Damn woman. Even when she's freaking happy she still manages to drive me nuts._

Emma stormed back to the cottage, pausing en route to drape Regina's sopping mayoral uniform over a quaint clothes line at the back. When her day started, she could never have imagined handling the mayor's dripping wet delicates while hiding out in her escape cottage in a magical realm. She wondered if it was profound that the lacy black underwear she had just slung up was taking up more real estate in her brain right now than the fact she'd also slain a dragon?

The blonde sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall blankly, willing herself to get bare-breasted Regina out of her head. Her non-team-spirit brain rebelled and simply drooled appreciatively. God she was _stunning_. She had been hiding _that _under her uptight suits all this time. Emma's mouth went dry.

The sheriff hated it when she did this. Her dating history included a fair number of women whom she had known from day one were completely wrong for her and would mess her up. And still she'd fall in lust with them, take them to her bed, and spend the next days, weeks, months regretting it as they made her life miserable after the one-night stands - exactly as she had predicted. And here she was, liking Regina far too much - an _evil queen_, no less, with a seriously bad history on anger management. And all Emma could think about was kissing her perfect, rock-hard, ruby-red nipples, stroking her fingertips up smooth wet thighs. And then...

She grimaced and flopped back on the bed. _Seriously, Emma? Just. Don't. Go. There._

Before long she heard the door open and Regina padded in, holding her ruined shoes in one hand, a towel slung casually over her shoulder, and the leather satchel in her other hand She moved easily once more, like a panther, and Emma was pleased to see her back to her old form. She dropped her shoes by the door, filed the satchel on a shelf in the wardrobe and turned to regard Emma.

Regina's hair was slicked back. Her face had lost some of its joyous glow, Emma noted regretfully, but she still looked a lot more relaxed. The blonde's eyes slid down to the brown softest leather vest, held together over that impressive bust - presently unencumbered by a bra - by thin leather laces cross-stitched up the front. The vest showed off her muscled biceps to pleasing effect. Emma dropped her eyes to Regina's dark olive breeches and incongruously bare feet. It was a functional look, in a rugged frontiersman kinda way. Definitely the butchest Regina had ever looked. Emma approved.

Regina glanced at her and then went back to the wardrobe. "Take off that hideous jacket," she ordered.

_Definitely back to her old form_, Emma mused, sliding her eyes down to her red jacket.

The mayor exhaled. "I have been wanting to say that for six months," she said half to herself. Then she shot a look at Emma. "_NOW_, dear. So we can find you something more suitable - and less ... _dragon-stained_."

Her fingers sifted efficiently along the racks and she pulled out a handful of clothes, dropping them on the bed beside Emma. "These will fit you." She reached back into a shelf and pulled out a towel. "OK. Go - take a bath, get dressed, and we can work on our dinner survival plans. And by all means wash what you're wearing while you're at it - or better yet, I could burn it?"

She gave her a vaguely hopeful look, eyes latching back onto the red.

Emma scowled, gathering the bundle in her arms and heading for the side door, but leaving the jacket behind. She wasn't going to dunk that in a mystical pool - uh uh, no way she was risking her beloved garment on that unknown.

She glanced back just in time to see Regina's irritated look as she plucked her red jacket off the floor with two fingers and a repulsed expression.

"Don't even think about getting that 'accidentally' in the fireplace, Regina," she called back.

The undignified curse she heard muttered behind her made her chuckle.

Emma made short work of shedding all her clothes and she waded carefully into the bubbling pool. It was a strange sensation, sensuous and rejuvenating. As the water's warm tendrils soaked over every part of her, Emma could completely understand why Regina was so delighted by her little spring.

She dunked her head in the water and instantly felt as though her scalp had been cleaned by a top salon. She stared at a handful of her hair which now seemed to be gleaming with health. The pool healed - sure - but who knew that extended to split ends and grime?

She reached over, found her old clothes, gave them a brief dip and scrub on the flat rock and was amazed to see the dirt seem to almost evaporate once the water soaked through. She wrung them out, dropped them back on the rock and stood. She was gloriously naked, clean and feeling more rejuvenated than she ever had in her life. She felt years younger. She tested her muscles and discovered even a few old shoulder aches were now gone. She glanced down.

An old knife wound on her stomach - was that faded? She traced the scar with her hand. _Incredible_.

Emma reached for the towel, drying herself brusquely, and then quickly donned Regina's borrowed clothes. Black leather pants. Her eyebrows lifted. Well _hell-o Regina._ Who knew she had this wild side to her? They were a little tight, but otherwise fit well. She supposed Regina figured she liked tight. She pulled on a white linen shirt, and rolled up the sleeves. It felt great, despite being a little transparent. Nonetheless, it fitted her perfectly.

She paused and gave the universe a crooked grin. There was something really incongruous about the fact they had each picked out the other's outfits.

Emma made her way back to the clothes line and slung her jeans, tanktop and underwear up beside Regina's clothes - bemused to find the mayor had already rehung her own outfits more efficiently. She headed inside.

Regina was busy pulling jars out of the cupboard, sorting what was still good and what was to be thrown out. The 'toss' pile was 10 times larger than the other. Her head was deep in the cupboard but she must have heard her come in because she said: "Enjoy yourself, dear?"

Emma nodded to Regina's bent back. "You could bottle that water and make a fortune."

A disapproving humph sounded from the cupboard. "Many have tried. An entire army can march for days with a teaspoon of it in their canteens and nothing else. And if they're wounded, a single drop on the injury can cure them. It's little wonder I hide its location. If it were to be plundered, and wasted ..." she stuck her head out and said grimly, "It would be a loss for all."

"How can it be a loss for all if you're the only one who uses it?" Emma asked, genuinely puzzled.

Regina's face twisted in disapproval. "Of course you'd see it that way. Consider me the pool's environmental guardian for this generation. And one day I will pass its custodianship on to ..."

She paused and Emma saw her choke on the name. The mayor's mouth snapped shut in an angry line.

"Regina - you will see Henry again one day."

"Don't be naive, Miss Swan. Now he knows who and what I am, he won't want anything to do with me. Before - he just hated me based on a suspicion. Now he knows for a fact the book was true."

"You should give our son more credit than that, Regina."

The brunette lifted her head and looked closely at Emma. There was an unmistakable trace of hope on her features. "Why?" she asked hungrily. "Did he say something?"

Emma swallowed. She felt terrible to dash her hopes, but she just didn't trust her enough yet that she wouldn't try to steal him back if she thought for a moment Henry wanted his adoptive mother in his life.

"It's more a feeling. He's a smart kid. Have faith."

Regina's face fell and she hid it back in the cupboard. "Faith," she snorted. "All it's good for is raising alms and terrifying villagers with tales of Hell if they don't co-operate."

She closed the cupboard door and rose, dusting off her pants. Emma was struck by just how different she looked when out of her pencil skirts.

Regina saw her look and commented: "Yes, about this outfit, Miss Swan, whatever possessed you?"

"What, you don't like the Calamity Jane unplugged look? At least there are no tassels."

Regina put her hands on her hips and huffed out a breath which only served to highlight the magnificent assets barely restrained by a cross-stitching of leather laces. Emma stared at the rising and falling chest and its abundant cleavage with fascination.

"At least the outfit I selected for you fully covers your ... assets," the mayor added, fully aware of Emma's eyeline.

The sheriff glanced down. "Covers them? Technically yes. Hides them? Ah, no. Not so much."

Regina's eyes flew to Emma's chest and seemed surprised to discover moisture and white linen shirts had a certain _side effect_. The blonde crossed her arms pointedly, observing where Regina's curious brown eyes had just been lingering.

"Fine," the brunette threw up her hands, "Tomorrow we pick out our own clothes. As for tonight, we have bigger fish to fry. Literally." She tossed Emma a small kit bag.

"Congratulations, you're now hunter." Emma peered inside to discover fishing wire and hooks. "And you are ...?" the blonde asked.

Regina pulled out some gloves, a basket and secateurs. "Gatherer, obviously. So if you want your fish with a fresh herbed sauce, we'd better get a move on."

Emma gazed back down at the fishing wire. "Um, Regina, didn't we cover the part where I'm a city slicker?"

Regina quirked her lips. "Grow a pair, sheriff. You can catch fugitives, can't you? Same thing, just with water and a hook."

"I am fairly sure there is nothing even remotely sensible about what you just said."

Regina slid on her gloves. "Stop whining. How hard can it be, Miss Swan?"

Emma did a double take. "Oh wait, _I_ get it. You've never had to fish before either, have you, princess?"

Regina's lips thinned. "Do shut up, dear." She opened the front door for her. "Let's go collect dinner."

Emma followed behind her, a decidedly skeptical look on her face. "Oh by all means. _Let's._"

.

**Author's Note: Hmm, Regina and Emma attempting hunting and gathering - now there's a picture. LOL. Stay tuned. And please, if you get a chance, feed the pigeon. I love and adore specific reviews which point out bits of the story or themes that you liked (or didn't). That really helps focus me. Anyway, thanks for reading.**


	6. Chapter 6

**THE DEBT**

**By Scribes and Scrolls**

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**Author's note: Another long one. Huge thanks to poor indiana for hauling herself off her sick bed for beta-reading duties. Yes, I gave her my head bug. Oops. Sometimes I overshare. Also apologies in advance for any errors or strange plot vortexes not spotted as a result of our weakened conditions. Although all mistakes will be mine.  
**

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**PART 6: APPLIED FISHING 101**

As they reached the door, Emma automatically reached for the sword which was gradually becoming a comforting presence and a natural part of her travelling kit.

Regina rolled her eyes. "Do you have to take that ridiculous thing everywhere we go?"

"You're the one who said the creatures out here disembowel first, ask questions later. I am in the 'protect and serve' business. I'm not much good if all I can do is shout at the woman-eating wildlife."

She grinned when Regina huffed, turning to leave. "Speaking of protecting," Emma glanced at Regina's bare feet, "aren't you going to put on some shoes?"

Emma was surprised to see a faint look of dismay flit across the brunette's face. "I … forgot," she finally muttered in embarrassment, turning back. "I usually just toss on a foot-protection spell when I'm out here."

That explained it. Emma however was more intrigued to realise it was the first time the mayor had ever admitted a personal failing, even as mundane as forgetfulness. Being less than perfect didn't sit well on those shapely shoulders.

Shapely shoulders which had now disappeared behind the wardrobe door. Emma held her breath. She had seen the most kick-ass boots in there, thigh-high, black-leather marvels which she was dying to see whether Regina would put on. Or to be precise, she was dying to see HOW she would put them on. Emma grinned.

But the mayor had clearly decided on function over fashion and rummaged about, reaching far into the back, before pulling out a non-descript pair of flat brown leather shoes instead.

"What?" she asked, catching Emma's hint of disappointment, as she slipped the footwear on.

"I, uh, just wondered whether you were going to wear _the boots_."

Regina snorted, her eyes dancing. "My dear, you couldn't handle the sight of me in those."

Emma secretly had to agree. Regina wearing those leather bad girls would probably cause a heart seizure. Not that the mayor should have pointed that out.

"Oh right, your hotness knows no bounds," Emma retorted.

"I am glad we agree, dear."

Emma narrowed her eyes and shouldered her sword. "Shall we?"

. . . . .

They had been walking for 25 minutes in companionable silence when something that had been niggling at the back of Emma's brain finally elbowed its way to the surface.

"I don't get it. You have refined taste in stuff," she blurted.

Regina raised an eyebrow. "Was there a question somewhere in there?"

"Blue crocheted bedspread," Emma reeled off. "Bottled pickles." She pointed to Regina's practical but unbecoming brown shoes. "_Those_. It doesn't add up …" she waved her hand up and down Regina's body, "to _you_."

Regina regarded Emma silently for a moment. She finally flicked her eyes to the horizon. "Well if you must know they're all Daddy's."

Emma almost tripped. Whatever wisecrack comment she had been planning to make about Regina's discordant bolt-hole décor and slumming-it footwear died on her lips. Regina had never, ever before mentioned either of her parents.

She gently asked: "And you keep them at the cottage because…?"

"Actually virtually everything at the cottage is Daddy's. Did you really think I had an abiding love for pickling chutneys and preserves when I was a reigning monarch? Or that I would think that was what I should stock my cottage with in case of emergencies?" Her eyebrows arched heavenwards.

"I had wondered about that," Emma said quietly. "So why is his stuff there?"

Regina trudged on, clearly debating whether to answer the question. Finally she sighed.

"It began when I caught a little toadie," the brunette said with a disdainful lip curl. "He was an enemy spy who tried to barter for his pathetic life with information. He told me a fantastical story about how the commander of his army used a magical healing spring. The stupid fool gave me enough detail to find it on my own. Then I had him, his commander and their entire army destroyed so no one would be able to speak of it again. I built a cottage nearby and used the crone's disappearing spell to make sure no one could ever find it.

"I would visit every now and then over the years when the mood took me. Sometimes for healing, sometimes just because it amused me. I never bothered to furnish it beyond the bed and a few sets of clothes.

"But then… one day…" Regina's breath hitched and she closed her eyes tight, "Then … Daddy … died and I found as much as I wanted to I couldn't _… just couldn't_ … throw out his treasured things. So I had them all moved to the cottage. The furniture, his preserves which he loved to make every spring, even his favourite bedspread - a gift from his mother - and his beloved old shoes that he used to wear about the garden." She gestured to her feet.

Regina fell silent and took in a deep, shuddering breath. She slid her eyes back to Emma's, and the look was so haunted and dark, the blonde didn't dare ask any more questions.

Emma swallowed. She had no idea, no clue that Regina had a sentimental bone in her body. But it did explain a lot. Little of the cottage had the other woman's 'flair'. Except maybe the modern, excessively clean, gleaming bathroom. But everything else about the place, right down to the colourful rugs, seemed absurdly homey, personable, as though it had been collected by someone who had invested a lot of love in it.

That person was definitely not Regina.

Emma glanced at those shoes again. A father's gardening shoes, worn by his daughter who couldn't bear to throw them away. It gave her hope for the other woman's heart. How could it possibly be so bleak and evil, if she had such love in it?

Emma wondered how Regina's father had died. There was a story there, the way she had obliquely referred to his death. But one look at her tight face told Emma the topic was closed.

She shifted the sword on her shoulder and changed the subject. "How much further to the lake? I assume you remember the way."

Regina snapped her head, and looked faintly offended. "I do _not_ get lost, Miss Swan."

"Hmm," Emma grinned. "I knew someone who said that to me once after nine U-turns."

The brunette made a derisive sound. "Men are notorious for not seeking directions," she said with absolute authority.

A smile curled around Emma's lips and she asked teasingly: "Who said anything about _men_?"

Regina regarded the blonde closely, a strange inscrutable expression crossing her face. She gave a slight eyebrow tilt but all she said was: "I see."

Her lips curved, matching Emma's smile, and if the blonde didn't know better she'd swear Regina had offered a hint of … _approval_?

Emma chuckled but was distracted when the mayor suddenly threw out her arm and, in a voice tinged with delight, declared: "There!"

The blonde followed the arm and sucked in a breath. The view was amazing. Below them, to the right, she could see the dark blue of a deep lake, surrounded by what appeared to be apple trees, ripe with fruit. A few jagged rock outcrops rose up beside the lake and it was at these to which Regina now pointed.

"Those should be a good spot to cast from," she declared firmly and began heading for them.

Emma stood back a moment and began calculating. One thing she had a true affinity for was estimating heights and distance. And if her tiny bundle of fishing line reached from those rocks to that water, she'd be a two-headed gorgon. Whatever the hell a gorgon was.

She smiled at Regina's retreating back. Yup, the mayor was full of crap.

. . . .

Emma sat easily back on the rock, legs crossed, and watched as Regina unwound the fishing line, explaining the intricacies of how Emma should go about her fishing mission. It sounded knowledgeable to the untrained ear, but Emma had sussed out 10 minutes ago the mayor had absolutely no real clue what she was talking about. It was all just hot air, bluff and bluster. She wondered if she did this often in life. Made up crap to sound smart?

Emma gave an amused smirk, just as Regina happened to turn to glance at her.

"Are you paying attention, Miss Swan? I expect you to catch us dinner when I go to collect the herbs and berries we will need to supplement our meals."

"Mmm," Emma replied lazily, squinting up at the woman standing in her sun, "I am just waiting to see when the masterclass begins. Because, frankly, you are so full of shit."

Regina reeled back to her full height and glared, outraged, at the blonde reclining on the rocks. "What?"

Emma shrugged and said with a hand wave: "You have no bait. The line is too short, and you're lecturing me so loudly the fish will have shoved their fins in their ears by now and gone to hide."

Regina's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "Well if you're such an expert, Miss Swan, here! I look forward to your special city talents in fishing us up a banquet."

The mayor tossed the tangle of wire and hooks into Emma's lap and strode off – which is to say, edged off, as the climb down was too steep to enable furious exits without some due diligence.

Emma watched her go, the rigid lines of fury radiating off her compact frame. A smile edged around her lips. Regina was breathtaking when she was angry.

Emma stopped smiling. _Gah_, she had to stop thinking about her companion as anything other than Henry's highly strung, crazy-assed, former adoptive mother.

Her mind drifted. _Mmm, crazy assed. Yeah, Regina really did have a nice ass._

Emma shook herself from her errant thoughts and gathered up the fishing line. She began to carefully wind it back up so it wouldn't knot. As she did so she glanced below the rocks for a more likely spot to fish from. She saw, by one of the tree stands, a darker area. Shadowed and cool. She wondered whether fish liked to hang around in the shade like people on hot afternoons? It was worth a shot. She rose, shoved the fishing tackle in her pocket, sword in one hand, and carefully made her way down the rocks.

In the distance she could see Regina heading for the apple trees, arms pumping furiously, clearly still enraged, her basket bobbing up and down as she went. Well if there was one thing the mayor knew how to cook with, that was apples. She already had the _stewing_ part down pat.

Although, Emma scowled, she couldn't recommend her turnovers.

The sheriff found a rotting log and gave it a kick. Strange curling insect life wriggled away and she grabbed at a few less revolting creatures and examined them. She figured fish weren't that fussy, so these would have to do. Bait solved, she found a quiet spot and peered down into the water. She could see the occasional flash of fish tails and, heartened, baited her hook. Or attempted to.

The first three attempts involved bloodied fingers and plenty of inward cursing. The fourth time her finger was impaled, the cursing turned outward.

Eventually, hook baited, she tossed the line in and sat down on a boulder, and waited.

And waited.

Then waited some more.

She bit her fingernail. _Was this right? Were you supposed to wait so long for fish? Had she put the line in wrong?_ She pulled it back out and examined the hook. There was no bait. _What the hell? Where had it gone?_

She grabbed more of her wrigglers and mashed them onto the hook in a big fat globule, again managing to jab herself twice in the process. Then she got a bit of spare fishing line and wrapped that around the bait ball, tying it to the hook. There. _Come off now, I dare ya._

She tossed the line in the water again. It made a loud "plonk" noise, her bait was so heavy.

"Oh nicely done, Sheriff," a mocking voice sounded in her ear. Emma jumped_. Damn woman_. "All the fish which are attracted to a mouthful of plastic will leap on your line, assuming they don't choke to death on your enormous bait gumball first."

Emma pursed her lips and eyed the other woman. She held a basket filled to the brim with apples and some non-descript green leafy vegetable matter on top.

"You are welcome to do this yourself, you know," Emma said. "I'd be more than happy to be 'gatherer'."

"Please, Miss Swan, you'd kill us both. As a practitioner of magic I do actually know what herb is edible and what will poison us."

"Of course _you'd_ know all about poison. _Right Regina?"_ Emma growled in irritation at her patronising tone.

Regina's head reeled back and she bared her lips. Pain flashed across her eyes and Emma remembered the raw topic was how well Regina had succeeded in poisoning their son. Whom the mayor loved. And judging by her tormented eyes, that memory would be crushing her to the core for a while yet.

"As you say," Regina said tightly. "Well … I'll leave you to your …" she rose and finally finished her sentence, as though struggling to speak … "_fishing_."

Her voice was Arctic cold and Emma instantly regretted her petty comeback, ruining the friendly defrosting of relations they'd been experiencing. And, almost, well … enjoying.

She didn't feel like apologising – hell the woman had intended to poison her after all – but Emma sure didn't want this either.

"Regina, I …"

"Save it Miss Swan. You are quite correct. We _are_ on opposite sides. It was foolish to have forgotten that."

She turned, gathered up the basket and started walking away. Emma regretfully watched the stiff set of her shoulders and digested the genuine pain behind the cold fury.

Some White Knight she was. She kept kicking salt into the wounds of one of the most wounded people she had ever met. Sure, thousands would say she deserved it. Maybe she did. But it didn't make it right.

Besides, what would Henry say if he knew she just tormented his mother for the sake of it?

_Pathetic_.

For the first time, Emma felt ashamed. And she knew with absolute certainty she didn't want to be on opposite sides of Regina. For many reasons.

She stood and put her end of the fishing line under a rock to hold it in place. She rose and suddenly heard a chilling sound - like a cross between a shout and a scream. Emma's blood went cold.

_Regina!_

Emma grabbed her sword and bolted towards the commotion.

She came around a bend and skidded to a halt. Regina was on the ground, eyes wide with alarm, trying to slowly back away, scrabbling ineffectually, all elbows and feet.

Before her, fur standing on end, was the biggest wolf Emma had ever seen. Its coat was matted and greying. The beast was growling and baring its fangs at the woman staring back in horror.

"Regina!" Emma called out. "Use your magic! Fireball the thing to Hell!"

Regina shook her head. "_Can't,_" she hissed, eyes completely fixed on the wolf.

Emma realised her hands were sweating when she felt the sword begin to slip from her grasp. She immediately tried to grab it harder and in doing so she unbalanced, landing on her knees with an audible _oomph_.

The snarling wolf turned to her. Emma, on hands and knees, stared up at the hypnotic red eyes. Her hand felt about surreptitiously for the weapon. Finally, she found its handle, pulled the sword to chest level, grabbing it with both hands, and raised it high above her head shouting wildly.

She pulled her arms back to toss it at the crouched creature, the same way she had slain the dragon.

Regina cried out at the last moment: "EMMA! _NO!_"

Her aim went wild and the sword flew harmlessly past the wolf, jagging into a tree trunk.

The wolf snatched its eyes to Regina when she cried out and then turned back to Emma once more. Assessing.

Emma swallowed. She wondered if she rushed it like a bear, waving her hands about, would that drive it off? But as she stared into the eyes of the beast she could swear she saw intelligence there – and more than that, she realised somehow that it would never fall for a primitive scare tactic.

"Please just go home," she found herself whispering to it. "Please," she implored, looking directly at its eyes. "We're no threat to you."

The wolf blinked and, astonishingly, closed its mouth and turned and trotted away, the ground shuddering under its heavy feet. It had disappeared into the foliage before Emma suddenly realised she had been holding her breath and sucked in a lungful of air.

She glanced over at Regina who was staring at her, doing her best to hide the look of shock plastered on her face.

"You OK?" Emma asked, her voice shaky.

Regina nodded curtly. "Thank you, yes, Miss Swan."

Great - back to the formal tones again. Emma sighed.

"Why the hell didn't you blast its furry ass anyway? A few more days here or even a week, won't matter to me, especially when the other option is a wolf mauling."

"I couldn't," Regina whispered hoarsely. "I made a promise once. I intend to honour it. I cannot hunt or kill wolves or allow it to be done in my name."

"What? Who on earth extracted that out of you?"

"The Huntsman," Regina swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "You know him as Graham."

Emma stared at her. "I think Graham would understand if your life was at stake."

Regina shook her head. "No, on this, I don't believe he would."

Emma rose and walked shakily over to Regina, offering her hand to haul her to her feet.

The mayor ignored it and instead glanced around her and began to put apples, which had scattered, back into the basket.

Emma felt disappointed but dropped to her knees to help her. "I really don't get it," she said half to herself. "That thing could have ended us both in one bite, but I asked it to leave and it acted like it understood me. And then it just did what I asked."

"Your first mistake, Miss Swan, is to think that real world rules apply out here. You will find many of the animals here are self aware, they have personalities and an intellect just like people. We do not call them 'it' for a start. And had you asked the wolf his name, he might have even told you."

"Wait, _what_? The wolf could speak?"

Regina dug some of her leafy green herbs out of the dirt. "Some do, some don't. He might have. He wasn't in the mood to talk to me. I have a, well, reputation. But he certainly understood you."

"The question is," Emma said curiously, "why did he just do what I asked?"

Regina paused briefly and then resumed filling her basket. "Yes," she said mysteriously. "That was interesting, wasn't it?"

Emma frowned. Regina clearly knew more than she was saying. And one thing was becoming clear – the longer she was here, the less she understood about this new world. She shuddered.

Regina stood, dusted off her knees and put the basket over her arm. After a moment she offered her hand to Emma. The blonde grinned and took it, getting back to her feet.

"I dunno about you," she told the mayor, as she plucked her sword from the tree trunk and they continued back to the fishing spot, "But I think that's enough excitement for me today. How about we head back, and crack open one of those disgusting preserves for dinner, and have apples for dessert?"

Regina's mouth twitched as they rounded a bend. "I don't know if that will be quite necessary." She pointed at the fishing line Emma had left anchored. It was twitching and pulling against the rock.

"A fish!" Emma shouted in delight, and rushed over, hauling in the line. She pulled it all up and then gasped as the world's possibly smallest edible fish appeared at the end of the hook. It looked faintly foolish, its tiny mouth still latched onto a chunk of the impossibly huge bait ball, unwilling to let go as it blinked up at the blonde. Emma stared at the ridiculous sight.

She turned to find the mayor in an odd state - her mouth performing feats of strange callisthenics in her effort not to laugh. Emma gaped at her. This was new. _Regina … laughing_? She felt her own lips start to twitch at the sight of the uptight mayor in such an amused mess. Soon they were both laughing aloud.

Finally the brunette waved her hand. "I think it's just adrenaline. I haven't wanted to laugh like that in years."

Emma's smile dropped. "That's really sad to hear. Laughing's great for the soul."

Regina stopped laughing. "I suppose it is. If you have one," she said soberly. She looked towards the sinking sun. "Well, shall we get your mighty _haul_ back to the kitchen and prepare for dinner?"

"Uh sure, but you do know that under hunter/gatherer rules, the hunter makes the kill, the gatherer has to gut it," Emma claimed, her nose screwing up at the thought of taking the gizzards out of the fish.

"Under whose rules?" the mayor asked, eyebrows climbing incredulously.

"I'll have you know these are well-established rules by the Hunters And Gatherers Guild," Emma said with what she hoped was supreme confidence.

"Miss Swan, I am fully aware of the HAGG guild and they have no such rule."

Emma looked momentarily stymied. "Really? _That's a real guild?_ Well, OK, but the point is, I am not touching the insides of _that_," she stated, dropping the fish which she had just unhooked, into Regina's basket.

The mayor rolled her eyes. "Such a city slicker. Fine, Miss Swan. You can peel the apples instead."

"After today, I am gonna take being called a city slicker as a compliment," Emma exhaled. "And fine, I can peel anything you want."

Regina smiled. "_Anything_ Miss Swan? I might hold you to that." Her voice became a little too husky to be misinterpreted as anything but sexual.

Emma stared at her stupidly and finally shook her head, putting her hands on her hips. "OK. Why do you always do that?"

"What, Miss Swan?" The mayor stopped to study her.

"Flirt with me." Emma frowned. "You never used to in Storybrooke."

"I think perhaps the wolf encounter has addled your brain, dear. Why on earth would I want to flirt with you?" Regina asked.

"That was my question to you. And before you deny it all – you kissed me with feeling back in the tunnel. I know you did. And you know it, too."

Regina sighed and began walking back. "You keep making such a big deal of that. A kiss is nothing. It has no special powers. Believe me – I know."

Emma pondered that. _What was that supposed to mean? _"Regina, we wouldn't be here if you were right about that, now would we? True love's kiss isn't just a myth. It _works_."

Regina scowled. "It doesn't always work," she snapped angrily. "I have seen a case where a love was pure and true, and I… a true love's kiss didn't work to bring someone back. Someone who deserved it. Someone with a beautiful heart."

Emma paused and realised this must be Regina's fabled love she kept referring to when Mary Margaret had been questioned over Katherine's disappearance. Regina crossed her arms and hugged herself as if she was cold.

"I am so sorry, Regina," was all she could think to say.

The brunette shook her head dismissively, but her eyes filled with pain. "It was a long time ago. I know he wasn't cursed but I still thought true love's kiss might…" She faded out and looked appalled she had said that much.

Emma gazed at her for a moment. Understanding. "It was not so long ago for you, I think," she said perceptively.

Their eyes connected. "No," Regina whispered. "Not so long ago for me. I wish it were otherwise."

"But just so you know," Emma said softly, "A kiss isn't meaningless. And when you kissed me, you _liked_ it." She broke out into an incorrigible grin.

Regina offered a small snort and let her hands drop. She resumed walking, Emma at her side. "Oh please_."_

"I know so."

"Just drop it, Miss Swan."

I will if you admit you liked it, too."

"Don't be absurd, I felt _nothing_," she declared adamantly. "Now can we get back to the cottage before these apples turn themselves into cider."

"Sure. Oh and Regina?"

A long-suffering sigh. "_Miss Swan_?"

"I knew it."

.

**Author's note: Thanks for hanging in there. In case anyone's in any doubt that wolf was definitely NOT Red. OK next chapter will get down to some emotional disclosures. Please feed the pigeons. I love those **_**specific**_** reviews. You're amazing reviewers! **


	7. Chapter 7

**THE DEBT**  
**By Scribes and Scrolls**

**CHAPTER SEVEN: LIGHTING A FIRE**

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**Author's note: Warning - there's a passing, non-graphic reference to child abuse in this chapter. Also tissues alert - while reading, cling to soft toys and/or lovers for best results. Yet another triple-lengther, so please enjoy.**

.

Back at the cottage, Emma started gathering firewood knowing the little stone shelter would get cold at night. Regina began hunting out pans. They fell into an easy rhythm and the blonde found herself humming contentedly under her breath.

She re-entered the cottage and threw the firewood in an old wooden bucket by the fireplace. She knelt to sift out some kindling when she felt Regina's presence next to her.

She glanced up to see a strange look on the other woman's face. "Miss Swan, I don't know how to tell you this..."

Emma looked worriedly at the brunette.

"...but it seems, despite your, er, best efforts at playing 'hunter', our dinner has ... _escaped_."

"Huh?"

"Your fish, Miss Swan, is no longer in my basket." Regina eyed her grimly, clearly expecting the news to hit the blonde hard.

Emma glanced at her feet. "Oh yeah, _that_," she said. "It um, didn't meet the minimum requirements. So, when you weren't looking, I tossed him back."

Regina's eyebrows lifted. "The_ minimum requirements_?"

Emma couldn't meet her eye. Finally a tiny knowing smile played on the mayor's lips. "Miss Swan when I told you some of the creatures in this world are self aware, I meant the bigger mammals, larger birds and so on. Not," her face screwed up, "little fish."

"Yeah, well," Emma grumbled, "I just didn't like the way he was looking at me."

Regina rolled her eyes and returned to the kitchen, bending down to open a cupboard under the sink. "So I suppose we'll have to dip into my supplies then."

She flung the cupboard open and Emma got a look at rows and rows of top quality jars of foods, preserves, cheeses - clearly not the home-made variety of Pappa Mills, but these looked to have been made and bottled by professionals. There was little doubt this was top-of-the-line artisan produce for its day.

"I had these gathered in the week before the curse was to be enacted," Regina explained. "So technically none of this is more than six months old."

Emma growled in frustration. "If you had all these all along, why on earth did we have to go through that ridiculous exercise of hunting, gathering and finger-skewering today?" She held up her worse-for-wear thumb which looked like a sorry excuse for a pin cushion.

"The first rule of survival, Miss Swan, is to secure your shelter and then your food supply," Regina said, crossing her arms indignantly. Her 'as any fool should know' tone was clear. "This will not last forever." She waved at the cupboard.

"No," Emma retorted, "but it will certainly last until well after I am back in Storybrooke, and you can just conjure up a feast any time you want."

Regina's expression dropped and her mouth snapped shut. Emma wondered if she had forgotten that she had her magic back. It _ had _been almost 30 years. Old habits...?

The brunette simply shook her head and dropped to her knees and began selecting pickled jars of produce - olives, fetta cheeses, salamis, sundried tomatoes...

Emma quickly gave up being annoyed and joined her on the floor, eyes widening with each new goody that emerged. "Oooh, this stuff looks great," she enthused, plucking a fat jar of nuts off the shelf.

"We can have an anti-pesto platter for dinner and apples stuffed with currants for dessert," Regina declared, a satisfied smile flitting across her face.

Emma licked her lips hungrily. "Sure. But, ah, I've never been much one for, um, anti-pesto ... None of my various foster parents were what you'd call the adventurous types."

Regina regarded her curiously. "And as an adult, it never made it to your menu, either?"

"If it didn't come with fries, it usually didn't get ordered," Emma shrugged.

"Fries? How on earth you keep your body looking like that is a mystery to me, dear," Regina muttered, pulling out ever more exotic jars and examining the labels.

Emma grinned broadly. "You like the way my body looks, Madame Mayor?" She shifted her rear for best viewing effect. Given the confined space and the tight pants, all she succeeded in doing was squeaking the leathers loudly.

"Very classy, my dear," Regina retorted, smirking at the ungainly sound. "Now make yourself useful and light the fire while I get things organised. And for god's sake stop calling me mayor. I am certainly not that any more."

Emma rose and moved back over to the fireplace. "I think I'll always think of you as the mayor. The suits. The strut. The lectures. That ridiculous marble desk."

Regina snorted. "There was nothing ridiculous about that desk. It took my best artisan months to make."

"Taxpayers must have loved that."

Regina snapped: "They loved what I told them to love. _End of discussion._"

Emma snickered: "And right there the mystery is solved as to why the mayor of Storybrooke never married."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean," Regina growled warningly.

Emma began building a squat pyramid of twigs in the fireplace. "Your winning personality. Control issues. Even Graham wasn't that much of a masochist."

A jar slammed on the bench and the blonde's head snapped up in response. Emma put a hand up. "Hey relax, I am sure you didn't want to get hitched to anyone, either. It was mutually advantageous, right? Hell, I don't want to get married either. I get it."

"Marriage is a cage with gilt-edged bars and nothing more. It is a wicked institution perpetrated on young women, little more than innocent _girls _some of them," Regina uttered darkly.

Emma rocked back on her heels and stared at her. "O-kay..."

"I would sooner cut out my own heart with a blunt spoon than re-marry," she snapped. And then her eyes flew wide open and she bit her lip.

Emma froze and dropped the twigs. "You were married, Regina? Who was he?"

Regina's lip curled. "Snow's father."

"Shit Regina," a look of horror crossed Emma's face. She paled. "Y-you're ... we're _related_?"

"Hardly my dear," Regina interrupted. "King Leopold had Snow long before I turned up. He was, I suppose, a good man. But I was forced to marry him - my mother had a certain view of what she wanted my social standing to be. And given the age difference and his idea of wedding a girl with barely any thought as to her ... _feelings_ on the subject - although I am sure he convinced himself I was enamoured with him," Regina's voice hitched and she pursed her lips, "...well I was not too devastated when he died. And, with his death, I assure you that _we _are no relation whatsoever."

Emma felt relief course through her veins. She exhaled. She stared at Regina for a long moment, taking in her rigid posture. The blonde could see underneath Regina's stiff front a young girl forced to be an old king's wife with all the loneliness, emptiness and duty it entailed. She wondered how that unhappy match had come to pass.

The blonde resumed stacking the fireplace, more vigorously than necessary. She realised Regina was waiting for a response - probably wondering whether she was delighted not to be related to her.

"I am glad we do not share any blood," Emma stated firmly, wiping her hands on her thighs. The sheriff did not look up but she felt herself being watched closely.

"And why is that, my dear?" the brunette asked silkily. Emma could almost smell the danger in her tone.

The blonde paused and locked eyes with her. She finally admitted: "I think you know why."

A moment passed and, then another. The sheriff could see the brunette processing, her expression hooded.

Emma cleared her throat and asked: "Got a lighter?"

The brunette turned and opened a drawer and pulled out a flint and small piece of steel. "Here," she said, tossing the bundle to the blonde. "Use dry leaves to catch the sparks."

The sheriff nodded and rose to find some leaves outside. As she passed the mayor she added softly, touching her gently on the arm: "Know what? No one should have to marry for anything other than love."

Behind her she heard a soft gasp and knew for once in her life she had said exactly the right thing to Regina Mills.

. . . . . .

Dinner had been amazing, Emma thought, leaning back on the couch, patting her stomach. She now officially loved anti-pesto. She had been groaning over the sliced chorizo sausages so loudly Regina had asked her, eyes glittering, whether she wanted to be alone.

Emma smiled and stared into the crackling fire, tucking her feet under her on the couch. From a day with frightening beginnings, it had turned out to be not so disastrous. She felt warm and content.

Behind her the brunette was returning from the hot spring, preparing for bed.

"Your turn, Miss Swan. Don't worry, I left you some warm water," she said holding a towel around her naked body, offering the first attempt at a joke Emma had ever heard from the mayor.

Regina slipped into the bathroom before a distracted Emma could think of a clever comeback. So the blonde grabbed her own towel and padded out the back door, down the path.

By the time she made her way back, Regina was in bed, a candle burning on a small bedside table, wearing a long pale blue linen shirt, three buttons undone revealing the soft swell of her breasts. She was reading an old, tattered book - Emma could barely make out the title. Runes and Magic or something. But her eyes were drawn to the expanse of skin dipping down from her neck, warm, bare and deliciously inviting. Fingertips could easily get lost exploring that terrain.

"Hurry up and close the door, Miss Swan, we have no central heating, remember."

Emma snapped out of her reverie and pulled the side door shut. She hurried into the bathroom. She had plucked her clothes off the line earlier and now grabbed her panties and tanktop - her usual sleepwear - and quickly dropped the towel and slipped into them. She looked around the candle-lit bathroom. So strange to see something so modern lit with a flickering medieval light source.

She blew out the candle and shut the door behind her.

Regina's eyes slid up from the book and rose languidly up her form. She said nothing but Emma felt self conscious all the same. Was Regina judging her or admiring her?

"_What_? It's what I always wear to bed," she said defensively. "Remember - you at my door, bearing a basket of apples and a lot of bad attitude?"

"All I remember, Miss Swan," Regina said in a husky drawl, lowering her book to her lap, "Is you flinging open the door so wide that the whole world could see your barely legal sleep attire."

"_That's _what you remember from our meeting? Not your threats for me to leave or anything else? Just how much of my underwear was showing?"

Regina pulled a face. "Just get into bed."

"I like to sleep on the left."

"You'll sleep on the right or on the couch."

"That couch couldn't fit a dog on it, let alone me."

Regina's eyes faintly mocked her. "If the shoe fits, Miss Swan."

Emma sighed and headed over to the wardrobe to hang the leather pants and shirt up, when her eye fell to the shelf. "What's in the leather pouch Regina? The one you had when we escaped."

Regina sighed, closed her book and put it on the night stand. "I see reading is out of the question tonight. Alright, bring it over, dear, and I'll show you."

Emma's hands fell on the smooth, worn leather pouch and she carefully picked it up. It felt light. Curious, she handed it over to Regina's fine-boned outstretched fingers and then went to the right side of the bed and drew back the covers.

As she did so she realised exactly what Regina was wearing. Or rather wasn't. Smooth bare legs were under that shirt. She could see the start of the curve of her ass - also seductively bare. All the mayor was wearing was that long linen shirt. And. That. Was. It.

"Any day now, Miss Swan," Regina ordered, glaring. "It's cold!"

Emma slid into bed, shutting her eyes briefly, aware she now had to add Regina's luscious bare legs to her naked breasts as images she was trying to blot out from her mind if she were to ever get to sleep tonight. Damn woman did not make things easy.

Regina had followed Emma's eyes to her legs and finally cocked an eyebrow. "Problem, Miss Swan?" she drawled.

"Um, what is it - pants-optional night?" Emma asked nervously.

Regina snorted. "Be glad I am even wearing a top. I made this concession for you - now that I am aware of your vast prudish streak," she added, voice dripping with condescension. She eyed her bed partner and added: "As I said, if you don't like it, Miss Swan, then enjoy the couch."

"Fine, fine, whatever," Emma growled, pulling the blankets over them both and settled in. "Just keep all your bits to your side of the bed."

Regina gave an incredulous expression. "_Pot, kettle_, Miss Swan?"

Emma ignored her, hunkering down lower and then peered intently at the brunette's hands which were untying the leather bundle.

"So," she said with interest. "What's in that pouch?"

. . . .

Regina's fingers drew out old, worn photographs, clearly well-thumbed, of a little boy.

"Henry!" Emma exclaimed in delight and reached over to pick some up. "As a baby! And a toddler. Oh my god, he's adorable."

Regina's face split into a wide smile. "Yes, he certainly was." She tapped one photo: "His first day of school."

Emma peered over Regina's shoulder. "Ha! Is that your leg he's clinging to?"

The brunette gave a curt nod. "He wasn't as keen to leave me then as he is now."

"Who took that photo?" Emma asked curiously.

"Graham. This one," Regina's face tensed, "was taken by Gold on the day he gave me Henry."

Emma looked at a soft-faced Regina, eyes looking tenderly at a tiny bundle in her arms. It was simply the most adorable she had ever seen Regina. It was hard to reconcile her with the woman she knew now.

"What was Gold doing there?"

"He organised the adoption, Miss Swan. I should have realised he was up to something when he first suggested the idea. Oh, he tried to make me think it was my idea to have a son, but looking back he had a plan even then."

"Seriously? He put the idea of an adoption in your head just so you could get Henry, just so one day Henry'd find me, and just so one day the curse would break? I mean ... _seriously_?"

"Yes Miss Swan. He is a devious, master tactician. A dangerous cunning _snake_." Regina glowered.

Emma stared at the photo again then flicked her eyes back up at Regina. "All this may be true, but at least you got Henry out of the deal."

"_Had _Henry," Regina said, her jaw clenching.

Emma sighed. Her hand traced the little baby's face - for years whenever she thought of her son, this was how she'd remembered him. "You still have a hell of a lot more memories of him than I do. Come on, tell me some of them - what was he like? Before the book, I mean?"

Regina regarded her for a moment. "I will tell you some stories of Henry and in exchange you can tell me something of your life."

Emma blinked. "Why do you care about that?"

"Why shouldn't I? You're Henry's birth mother, I am curious about where and who he came from."

"My life has been pretty checkered Regina. Not exactly a bunch of laughs. And that's before we get to the jail stint."

"I never pictured you as a choir girl, Miss Swan - but I think we can both agree my checkered past probably trumps yours," she said archly. "So indulge me. How did you get from there," she touched the baby photo gently, "to here?"

For a moment Emma thought she meant _here_, as in, in the bed with the brunette. And her brain had a mini meltdown. It really was incongruous - no scratch that - ludicrous, she was tucked up warmly in bed with her son's adoptive mother, aka the evil queen. Who, by the by, was wearing next to nothing and had a cleavage that was the gift that just kept on giving. At least from the angle Emma was now eyeing it.

The blonde looked at Regina's inquiring brown eyes and gave a small nod. "OK, deal - Henry's stories for mine. You go first."

Regina settled back against a pillow and looked thoughtful. "He was a beautiful baby. Smart and watchful. He always knew when I wasn't in his room and would demand my presence - loudly - if I was gone for a minute." She flicked a glance to Emma. "How things change. By the age of two Dr Hopper told me he was developmentally advanced."

"Wait, what? You took him to Dr Hopper when he was just a toddler? How come?"

Regina coloured faintly. "I... had no one else to discuss his upbringing with. It was easy to simply book in with Dr Hopper and he apprised me of how Henry was doing at achieving the milestones I anticipated Henry to achieve at various ages."

Emma sucked in her bottom lip and frowned. "Sounds like you were checking off his development like a shopping list."

"Doesn't every parent?" Regina said reproachfully. "They might not admit it, but they do. And I simply wanted the best for him."

Emma nodded. Regina wasn't actually wrong. But there seemed to be something so controlling in the way she approached mothering Henry. It made her uneasy.

"His first word was not 'mommy'," Regina continued, "but, ironically, given all that has transpired, 'book'. Or, as he pronounced it, 'boo'. He loved it when I read him stories, and he demanded more constantly. I would tuck him into bed and we would read Dr Seuss. He learned to read himself very young and after that there was no holding him back."

Emma lay back deeper into her pillow and smiled, loving listening to the sound of the mayor's voice, picturing the domestic scene.

"One morning, when he was four, I woke up early and it was before dawn and I decided to check in on him. I loved watching him sleep. He was so ... peaceful. But he wasn't in his bedroom. I looked everywhere and finally found him in the kitchen, sitting on the floor, half asleep, staring at the oven. I asked him what he was doing and he said he was waiting for the clock - he didn't have one in his room - to get to 6am.

"You see, he loved reading so much that I had to set him a morning curfew," Regina recalled fondly. "There he was, in his striped pyjamas, just counting down till he was allowed to open his books again.

"I sent him back to bed, but I admit I was very proud." Regina gave an honest smile which reached her eyes.

Emma smiled back, absurdly pleased, even though she knew the scene had nothing to do with her.

"Big imagination even then, huh?"

"Most definitely, Miss Swan," Regina's rich tones agreed.

"I think under the circumstances," Emma said rolling over on her side, propping her head up in her hand, "that you should call me Emma now."

"And what circumstances are those, my dear?" Regina asked playfully.

"Well we are sharing a bed together in your secret hideout," Emma said with a snicker.

"I only call my friends, colleagues and equals by their first name, and that still applies even if circumstances dictate ... _strange _bedfellows."

"You don't see me as a friend, colleague or an equal then?"

Regina's mouth curved. "Your turn, Miss Swan. And do tell me how you came to be behind bars. Newspaper reports don't do the story justice, I'm sure."

Emma frowned darkly. "I'm glad my misery can entertain you, Madame Mayor." She deliberately used the title Regina had asked her not to.

Regina's eyes shuttered half closed, well aware of what the blonde had done. She waited.

"If you really want to know, I attacked my former foster dad. Well, to be accurate, first I set fire to his car, then I threatened his thieving kid, then I attacked the old bastard."

Regina's eyebrows rose.

"You didn't know?" Emma asked. "I thought you had the police report."

"It only said assault and vandalism, it didn't mention your relationship to the victims," Regina replied, not bothering to deny digging into the sheriff's past.

"_Victims!_" Emma growled. "That's a freaking joke. The lecherous perv got off lightly. And his wife didn't believe me when I explained he had a major problem respecting ... boundaries ... with his teenage foster daughter."

Regina's mouth fell open. "But that's appalling! Why would you go to jail if he was the criminal? Didn't you explain to the court what he'd done?"

Emma stared at the brunette. Such naivete. She shook her head.

"I didn't see the point. Who'd believe some foster kid with a bad attitude who had already been caught out lying for stealing the bastard's booze? Worst part of that was it was his son who stole his beer and I stupidly agreed to pretend it was me and lie about it to make it more convincing."

She sucked in a shuddering breath and continued grimly. "I'd really liked the little brat up till then - he had been like a real brother to me. I used to hang out with him and his friends all the time. But when it all went down about his groping old man, he turned on me, too. Blood was definitely thicker than water with that asshole family."

She glanced over to see Regina's slack-jawed expression and was unaccountably warmed to find the brunette's eyes blazing.

"Don't worry, I kicked the bastard so hard in the balls when they lead me away I think he'll be singing contralto for a few years yet. And I did finally tell my counselor in prison. She actually believed me," Emma added, her voice slightly breaking. "Anyway she got my sentence cut when Henry turned up a few months later."

She could see the unspoken question worrying Regina's features.

"No, he wasn't Henry's father. That was one of my foster brother's friends," she said uncomfortably with a pained sigh. "Look, don't ask.

"Anyway the best thing is the bastard's been barred from ever being a foster parent again."

Emma glanced up at the brunette anxiously. She had never shared that much about herself with anyone. She felt exposed.

Regina's face underwent a variety of expressions. Finally brown eyes slid sorrowfully over to blue.

"It's hard. When you have no one to talk to about ... these things."

Emma blinked. A chill skittered up her spine at the despairing way she'd said it. Regina's pain was etched deeply in her expression.

"I am sorry I made you remember that, Miss Swan." she added quietly, a tinge of shame around her eyes.

The blonde swallowed. She had never, ever, expected to have common ground with Henry's mother about her shitty teen years. "Well we can both agree one good thing came out of that crappy foster home."

They both gazed at the picture, and Regina's finger affectionately traced a circle around the baby's face.

"He does look like you, you know," she suddenly said. "I've always thought so."

Emma grinned. "Yeah, kinda does a bit."

Without thinking, she dropped her head tiredly on Regina's shoulder, gazing at the photo.

The mayor stiffened suddenly. For a full minute she sat there, frozen, not breathing. Her knuckles grew white where she clutched the baby photos. Then she drew in a deep breath.

"I think I might turn in now, Miss Swan," she said and leaned over abruptly to blow out the candle.

The action dislodged Emma, who realised with acute embarrassment what she'd just done. _Crap, crap, crap, what the hell did I do that for?_ She was lucky Regina wasn't in the mood to just kick her to the floor. One thing she'd learned about Regina of late is she did _not _appreciate being touched. That was fine, Emma could relate.

She quickly returned to her side of the bed, and heard Regina fumbling to put the photos back in their pouch in the semi darkness. The room was now only lit by the dying embers from the fireplace.

"Ah yeah," Emma said, yawning. "Been quite a day, huh?"

"That it is has, Miss Swan. Good night then." Her voice was hoarse and tense.

" 'Night Regina."

She rolled over to face away from the mayor. And despite all her fears, Emma swiftly found herself in the land of dreams.

The same could not be said for her sleeping companion.

.

**Author's note: Super-geeky admission - The story about Henry and the oven clock was one from my own childhood. My brother and I used to do this all the time and drive our poor, tired mum to distraction. OK we're starting to get to the meaty end of the story - big stuff coming up. Oh, and pretty please feed the pigeons. Your reviews keep me typing away when I am tempted to put my feet up and snuggle my adorable beta reader instead.**


	8. Chapter 8

**THE DEBT**

**By Scribes and Scrolls**

**.**

**Author's note: I am not quite sure how it happened, but this is my longest chapter ever – a mighty quadruple-length beast. Please enjoy.**

**.**

**Chapter Eight: Thinking of You, Too**

Emma had never had a more dreamy night's sleep. As she slowly woke she felt as if every part of her body was surrounded by warmth and she could happily wake this way every day. It was still pitch black when her eyes flickered open.

As she gradually moved into consciousness she realised almost every part of her body actually _was_ surrounded by warmth. Her back and thighs were being spooned by soft skin and long legs. The vaguest smell of apples told her exactly who was doing the spooning. A hand rested just below her hip, its warmth radiating through her thin panties.

Her eyes widened and she had to bite the inside of her mouth to stop from making a startled sound.

Before she could figure out what to do next, or more importantly, how she felt about it, the mayor suddenly stiffened. Emma heard the tiniest of shocked gasps. First the brunette's hand shot off her body. Then the other woman's body was stiffly and incrementally inching away from Emma, so incredibly slowly the mattress didn't even dip.

The blonde listened to the uneven breathing from her bed companion during her tricky tortoise-like extraction mission. It was actually pretty impressive.

Her back mourned the loss of the soft heat of Regina's body. She closed her eyes and wondered what it meant. Was the mayor just a clinger in her sleep? Any pillow in a storm? Or had it been her, personally, that the brunette's body had subconsciously responded to?

Before she could reach any conclusions her eyes grew heavy and she drifted off again.

The next time she woke, her nose was twitching. The most exotic aroma was coming from the kitchen. She split open an eye to find the cause of that heavenly smell. Oh god. Coffee. Real, honest-to-god, coffee. Her other eye popped open.

Emma watched from bed as the mayor worked with an old-fashioned grinder and some coffee beans. Her shirt, which only barely covered her rear, billowed as she moved and every now and then she would reach down into a cupboard to pull out some ingredient or another.

_And she had the nerve to call my nightwear barely legal._

Emma sucked in her breath. Regina Mills had a _stunning_ ass. And that wasn't all she'd just seen a flash of.

The blonde's mind wandered and she recalled the memory of the normally aloof woman's body wrapped around her. Regina bent over again and Emma squirmed uncomfortably, her heart racing.

She needed a bit of distance … and privacy. She climbed out of bed and headed to the bathroom. Just before she shut the door, the mayor turned towards the noise. In that briefest of moments, they both paused. Regina was holding a pot of water she was about to put on the stove, her long bare legs on display under that indecently size-challenged shirt. Three buttons were still undone, displaying liberal hints of rounded breasts and an ocean of bare skin. Her hair slightly, endearingly mussed. No make-up. Just Regina Mills, poured straight from bed. And there was one more thing.

Emma saw it in those dark hooded eyes as they flicked down her body.

_Longing. _

Emma closed the bathroom door with a soft snick. She leaned against the door and glanced down at her hard nipples, now aching for attention. Had Regina enjoyed the sight of those, she wondered. She palmed her breasts under her tanktop quickly with one hand and let her other slide south, slipping into the band of her panties.

All those earlier, maddening glimpses of Regina flitted through her head. She rubbed herself as she thought of seeing the mayor's bare breasts in the pool, feeling the soft firm thighs behind hers the previous night, the flash of her bare ass and her… Emma suppressed a moan and dipped her fingers inside.

It didn't take long. She came harder than she had in years. Sweating, gasping softly, chest rapidly lifting and falling, she screwed her eyes tightly shut as she savoured the warm sensations flowing up from between her trembling legs.

At this rate of torture and denial, living with Regina was going to be the death of her.

. . . . . . .

Emma sipped the mayor's coffee at the small, round wooden table and was impressed at how intriguing the bitter brew was. It was an acquired taste, but she thought she might come to appreciate it.

They hadn't said much over breakfast, which was a rustic affair involving finely diced apples stirred into porridge with a dollop of honey. No milk, though.

Emma had noticed neither of them had looked each other in the eye, since … _well_ … Emma was a little self-conscious that not 15 minutes ago she had been imagining the mayor doing a hell of a lot more to her than stirring her porridge. And she presumed the mayor's fascination with the table, her feet and the wall was probably due to trying to exorcise from her memory the fact she had been spooning her arch enemy the night before.

Emma stared at her porridge, pushing the grains around with her spoon.

"Want some cinnamon on that?" Regina asked politely. Too politely.

Emma nodded, still refusing to look up, and watched as elegant fingers shook half a teaspoon of cinnamon over her breakfast.

"Thanks," she muttered and stared back at her bowl. _Talk about your elephants in the room._

Regina put the cinnamon away and Emma's eyes fell to her outfit. She was now dressed in leather black pants – not the same pair Emma had worn (God forbid), and a cotton shirt, rolled up to the elbow. It was almost identical to the outfit Regina had picked out for Emma the day before, except she had also added the unbuttoned black vest she had washed and worn yesterday – a finely tailored garment that the blonde thought was incredibly sexy.

Leather pants, rolled up shirt, vest. It was like the goddess of lesbian chic was serving her breakfast. The blonde gritted her teeth, trying to ignore her galloping hormones, and stared ferociously at her oats. _Gah_.

Emma, for her part, had on her old jeans, boots and the soft-brown lace-up leather vest Regina had worn yesterday. It was almost funny how they had virtually swapped outfits.

Her tanktop she had now designated as sleepwear. _Ooh, that reminded her._

"Regina, what'd you do with my red jacket yesterday? I can't find it anywhere."

The mayor was rinsing out Emma's empty coffee mug. She shrugged and said: "I was rather hoping some creatures made off with it in the night and are currently nesting in it, far, far away."

"Don't be a smart ass. Come on - I wanna wear it today."

"You are _not_ wearing that thing – you didn't even wash it."

"Regina! Just tell me. Where is it?" She then paused before asking weakly: "You didn't … throw it out?"

"You _would_ think that of me, wouldn't you, Miss Swan." The mayor glared grumpily and put her hands on her hips. The action pushed her breasts out firmly and Emma stared at the sight helplessly.

_Would you stop doing that?_

She forced herself to look down. Damn woman still hadn't answered the question. "Well?" Emma asked, tapping her spoon impatiently against the table.

Regina growled and turned back to the crockery in the sink: "Why is it so important you wear it anyway? It's dirty … and hideous."

"Regina, I swear if you've hurt my jacket I will…"

"_What_?" The mug and cutlery in the sink bashed together loudly. She turned. "What, Miss Swan?" Her eyes flashed. "Is there anything you can do to me now that hasn't already been done? Hmm?"

Regina's rage was building and it just made Emma more and more irritated. The woman could get furious in an instant. It was like only _her_ emotions ever mattered and everyone else was forced to react_. Well screw it._ Emma just wanted what was hers, goddamnit.

"Yeah, well let's skip your pity party for once," Emma sniped. " Just tell me. Where. Is. My. Jacket, _Mayor Mills_?" She couldn't resist the last dig.

Regina's eyes were narrowed slits. Everything about her screamed danger. "I thought you said I had refined taste? Well my refined taste is telling us that your jacket is reconstituted skunk."

She leaned in provocatively, daring the blonde to challenge her. Emma matched her posture. Their eyes connected. It was always the same with this maddening woman. She could press her buttons like no one else.

They were so close she could feel Regina's ragged breath across her cheek and lips. She felt arousal skitter through her body. She could just close the gap and hate-kiss that smug look off the brunette's face, wrap her fingers in her hair. Emma's breath hitched. She had always loved the mayor's hair. The way it curved and kinked just off the collar.

_Wait_. _What had they been fighting about again?_ She glared. _Oh yeah._ She had saved up her first pay packet to buy that jacket. It meant something to her. Regina never seemed to understand the value of working for things. She just snapped her fingers – sometimes literally - and whatever the mayor wanted, she got. And everyone knew, what Regina wanted was _all_ that mattered.

Emma had had enough. She rose, turned her back on the woman and slammed her bowl in the sink.

"What are you doing," Regina demanded as Emma headed towards the bed.

"Looking for my cellphone. I want to head back to the hatch and contact my _family_," she said, not even caring she was rubbing it in. "Unless you've tossed my phone, too."

"I meant what do you think you're doing, just throwing your bowl in the sink? Do I look like the hired help? You're not sleeping in your car now," Regina snapped.

Emma spun her head to gape at her. "_Seriously_? You're on the run and you're having a neat-freak moment about one bowl in the sink? I will wash my dishes when I come back. Preferably while you're out doing something pointless like finding more exotic herbs or whatever it is you _already_ possess."

"And so now we're back to that," Regina said, eyes glittering. "If it were left to you we'd live in a pig sty and starve to death."

"No wonder Henry wanted out of this," Emma muttered, poking her head under the bed, glancing around.

"WHAT did you say?"

Emma froze. _Ah hell._ She hadn't actually meant Regina to hear that snide remark. She felt a faint sliver of regret. But she wasn't going to apologise. Not in the mood she was in. And certainly not to that control-freaking, jacket-tossing, _heart-breaking_…

Emma closed her eyes. _Damn it, Regina Mills._

She opened her eyes and they magically fell on her phone, which had fallen to the floor by her side of the bed. She snatched it up, stood and turned.

"_Nothing_. I said _nothing_. I will be back in an hour. See if you can cope with one dirty bowl in the sink between now and then. And try not to lose or destroy any more of my precious things _you_ don't like."

Emma shoved the phone viciously in her jeans pocket and stormed out, gleefully slamming the door.

. . . . . . .

Emma stewed most of the way on the walk to the hatch. But by the time she arrived most of her anger had fallen away. She was frustrated, in more than one sense.

Why she had ever imagined it would be different being around Regina now they were away from Storybrooke was beyond her. The furious glares and nasty comments, while standing way inside each other's personal space were exactly the same. The game-playing and manipulations. Sarcasm and personal digs. Always thunderbolts and lightning.

_Nothing changed. _She sighed.

Finally she came up a small rise and saw the 'rock' hiding the hatch opening and quickened her pace.

She could put up with a lot of things, but what really bugged her was a sense of betrayal_. Did Regina really have to spirit away her favourite red jacket? She KNEW how she felt about it. _Emma's jaw tightened in irritation.

She put her hand through the rock illusion and checked the hatch. Still locked. As expected – it wasn't even 24 hours yet. Emma pulled out her phone and turned it on. She waited a minute and watched with satisfaction as full reception appeared.

Suddenly the phone jerked to life. Incoming message after message appeared, and Emma's eyebrows rose in surprise. _Holy_…

She sat down and began playing them back.

Message 1: "Emma, it's your mother. You don't just hang up and run away. That's not fair. Come back at once! I mean it. It's not safe out there. Especially with _her_."

Emma rolled her eyes.

Message 2: "Hi Emma, it's Henry! I hope you're safe. I love you and remember Mom can be stubborn but don't give up on her! White Knights don't surrender! Even in the face of … well, _her_."

Emma snickered.

Message 3: "It's me again, Emma – Henry! I forgot. Please tell Mom for me that I'm OK and I am eating my vegetables and … doing my homework and … that I … um. _You know_. 'Kay, bye."

Emma grinned. Their kid really had a decent heart.

Message 4: "Alright Em, I realise there is nothing I can do to force you to come back but if you value our friendship you will at least consider it." _Ah. Mom again._ "Why don't you come home now and we can talk about ways to … help … Regina, together. And you can go back later?"

Emma sighed_. Yeah right._

Message 5: "It's me again, Em. If you won't consider me, at least think of Henry! He won't want you to be there with the Evil Queen when you could be with him. Think about it."

Message 6: "OK Henry has requested I correct my last message, but that's not the point. She's _EVIL_ Emma. She was my step mother. I know her! She was relentless with her revenge. She tore apart true love at every opportunity. Why would you protect someone like that? Oh, I have to go, Henry's macaroni is ready."

Message 7: "I suppose you've decided to stay, Em. Where are you anyway? Tell me how to get to you. Your father and I could mount a rescue. Bye."

Message 8: "Emma, it's David – er, James, your dad. Do you want us to mount a rescue? Your mother seems pretty keen on that plan right now. By the way, have you seen my sword? Grumpy said you had it last. Oh, yeah, and isn't this unbelievable? You…me? My _daughter_! OK bye. Oh! And let me know about the sword. And, um, your views on rescue attempts."

Emma chuckled, her eyes warming fondly.

Message 9: "Emma, oh my god! It's Red – Ruby– You didn't seriously run off with _Regina_ did you? Are you, what, all shacked up in some _love nest_ now? Ooh, _nasty_." There was a dirty cackle. "Shit, lady. That is some walk on the wild side! … Call me, text me, with the deets. You go, grrl."

Emma's eyes widened. _What the_ …

Message 10: "Emma dear, it's Granny. Not many people know this but I am a certified marriage celebrant. I thought you should know I do _all_ couples. Just in case. Bye dear."

Message 11: "Em! Goodness! Ruby tells me you might be in some sort of … I can hardly say it … _love nest_ with the Evil Queen? I know you've only had me as your mother for one day, but Em, please just contact me and say that it isn't so. I know Regina can be charming – I have seen that side of her. But don't forget what she tried to do to me! And she poisoned Henry! Emma, please, you can't possibly think she is … romance material? And anyway I thought you liked men?"

Message 12: "Oh, Em. I can't sleep. I have been talking with Granny who seems to think the best thing for Regina's, er, _wicked_ condition is to marry for love. Remember that even if it feels like love, the evil queen knows _spells_. And even if it isn't a spell – _princesses are not supposed to marry evil! _Do you hear me?"

Message 13: "James says I am being unreasonable and we should hear your side. Oh by the way Henry is fine and sends his love. He also says I should stop bothering you as you're probably working. What does he mean? What duties are you performing?"

Message 14: "OK Em we should all just calm down. Ruby tells me she doesn't know if you _are_ "love shacking" with Regina – apparently there may have been a miscommunication somewhere. Gossip and rumours travel so fast. So I really hope I haven't put an idea into your head. Although, to be honest, you did seem a little too, um, focused on her in Storybrooke, don't you think? I mean… oh I don't know what I mean. Anyway, I am sorry if I jumped to conclusions. Please let us know you're safe. And not involved with… Never mind. Just the first bit. Love you."

Message 15: "I just wanted to say one other thing: I am not judging. Whether you are _with_ Regina or not, we love you anyway. I know I have said some silly nonsense in these messages, but I was in shock. Look, Em, really all that matters is you are alive. Please let us know you're well. Oh and your father still wants to know about his sword. Bye."

Emma stared at her phone. _Well never let the facts stand in the way of a good rumour_.

She frowned. How had that rumour gotten started anyway? A sickening thought trickled into her brain. Why was it apparently _obvious_ to everyone else that she and Regina might be more than just … Hell what _were_ they anyway?

Emma shook her head and got to work sending texts to Henry and Ruby telling them she missed them and all was well. She added into David's message that she had borrowed his sword for protection.

And then she stared at the keypad wondering what to say to Mary Margaret. Er, Snow. _Mom_.

Finally she tapped out her words: "I am fine. Trying to help R get a fresh start without her reverting to vengeance. No plans to marry R. Ha! That's a good one. Will be back as soon as I can. Love to all. Em."

Within a few minutes, she got a text back.

"I am so glad you're well Em. You may have guessed I was fretting. Sorry!"

A second text arrived moments later.

"So when you say 'no plans' to marry R, does that mean forever or just presently? If you don't mind me asking. Love, Mom."

Emma rolled her eyes. She texted back: "_Seriously_ MM? Gotta go. Will text same time tomorrow. Love, E."

She turned off the phone and shook her head wryly. _Well that did not go as expected._

. . . . . . .

The cottage was sparkling clean when Emma returned and she couldn't resist looking at the sink. Sure enough, Regina had washed her bowl. It had been dried and left on the bench top in a prominent place, as if to mock her.

Emma knew she should feel a little guilty but she didn't. She looked about. Where the hell was Regina anyway? At the pool perhaps? It was worth a shot.

She was halfway down the path when she heard a scraping noise.

It stopped after a moment when she came around a bend. To her surprise, the sheriff was confronted with Regina who was holding a sharpening stone in one hand and pointing her sword at her with the other.

"_Miss Swan_," the mayor enunciated slowly, her expression inscrutable. "I think you need to be taught a lesson."

"Over one dirty bowl, and with my sword? That's kinda rude isn't it?" Emma said nonchalantly.

Regina lowered the weapon and smirked. "Come with me, dear."

She shouldered Emma's sword and disappeared into the foliage. The blonde followed her, jogging to catch up.

"Where are we going?"

"Patience."

"Can I have my sword back?"

"In time."

As they walked, Regina stopped several times to pick up long thin tree branches, pausing to hack off growths from them so they were perfectly straight and smooth. When she had three wooden poles she handed the sword back to Emma wordlessly, and continued.

She finally stopped in a flat, wide clearing and dropped the poles at her feet.

"Why are we here?" the blonde asked, looking around in confusion.

"We're here, Miss Swan, because although through some miracle you killed a dragon, I have come to believe you are absolutely _useless_ with a sword. When the wolf appeared you first dropped your weapon. And when you picked it up you seemed only capable of performing one manouvre which immediately robbed you of your sword entirely. That is unacceptable.

"So now I will teach you swordplay."

Regina reached down and chose a branch to use as a training tool.

"Um, is this gonna be like the fishing? Because, seriously, I don't know how much you really know about this stuff."

"Miss Swan, I have been in charge of armies – which automatically gives me more combat experience with this weapon than you. Wouldn't you agree?"

"So no practical experience then."

"I can do far better than dropping a sword and then tossing it over an enemy's head, Miss Swan." Regina said. "Now come on. Do you want to learn or not?"

Emma stared at her for a moment and finally conceded a nod. The mayor flashed her a brief smile.

She suddenly gave a wide sweep of her branch and Emma only barely got her sword up in time to protect her head.

"HEY!"

"Well at least your reflexes give me some hope."

"You could have taken my head off!"

"But I didn't."

Emma glowered and Regina suddenly drove the wooden pole at the sheriff's legs. She jumped instinctively and the mayor gave a tight nod.

"Not as useless as I feared then," she muttered.

"Gee thanks."

"Do not thank me yet, Miss Swan." Regina leaned the stick against her shoulder and her expression turned completely serious.

"There are three possible enemies, Miss Swan. Human, animal and magic. Let's start with human, first."

. . . . . . .

They had been training for the better part of three hours. Regina wasn't exactly the most patient of instructors and regularly got frustrated with Emma, and was not afraid of pushing her on her ass with the wooden poles when she made errors.

Emma was improving gradually and had progressed from different handholds for swords to sweeping and jabbing styles.

By the time they had stopped for a break, she was sweating profusely. Even Regina had taken off her vest and joined her, squatting on the ground next to her.

"Your progress has been adequate. Although you are far too aggressive in your opening manouvres. Tactically it's more sound to watch and wait and assess. Patience can be a virtue, rather than just rushing in like a fool."

Emma rested her arms on her knees and glanced at the mayor. "I suppose. But there is something to be said for the element of surprise. You certainly didn't see me coming when you were showing me parrying."

"Because you weren't supposed to be attacking then, but learning how to evade!" Regina snapped in outrage.

The memory of the mayor landing on her butt in an ungainly heap had made Emma laugh out loud and Regina had summarily pulled her down, too, with an equally loud thud and promptly sat on her hips to effectively pin her.

Emma had stopped laughing then and had simply gazed up at her instructor wondering if she had realised how suggestive their pose was. Regina had slowly shifted off her and helped her to her feet.

As the morning had progressed, the accidental touches on both sides had become more incidental.

Emma wasn't entirely sure how thrusting techniques required Regina to be pressed against her back, arm threaded on top of hers, doing the gesture with her.

She had actually leaned back, enjoying the feel of the other woman, finding the lesson wholly distracting. Finally the mayor had whispered in her ear for her to _focus_, and had stepped away, just when Emma would have turned to nibble on the ear and begged her to "make me". But she hadn't got the chance. Regina had moved on.

There had been wrestling training, too. Now, that had been seriously interesting. Although how Regina knew some of her choke holds was a mystery to Emma.

The sheriff had prided herself on knowing some pretty clever ways to bring a man down and keep him down. But Regina knew so many slippery, confounding and borderline legal tricks that Emma had become quite accustomed to staring up at an armpit, thigh, groin or cleavage and croaking yet again "Yield!"

The mayor would always give the same condescending smirk and remark that she had "given up too easily, dear".

The 12th time that patronising verdict had rung in her ears, Emma vowed she would keep wrestling until she blacked out if she had to. And they had gone at it, for over 20 minutes, sprawling, then pinning, flipping and twisting.

Finally Regina was virtually sitting on Emma's throat; her arms twisting back to hold Emma's thighs at an unnatural and excruciatingly painful angle. "My dear, I thought by now you might have a clue how to negotiate a woman's body. You fail at controlling me every time."

Emma stared up at the tight leather-clad thighs pinning her shoulders, past the trim, taut waist, and the sweat-soaked white shirt, outlining Regina's bra, and muscled body. She saw the smirk, heard the condescension, as usual dripping with innuendo, and decided she was sick of losing.

"Well perhaps, but then I don't have to secretly spoon women in the middle of the night to feel in control of them, either."

Regina's whole face changed abruptly, her jaw dropping open and Emma quickly seized the advantage, flipping Regina backwards over her hips and then threw herself forward to land on her. She pressed her entire body across the brunette's and, as she yanked the mayor's arm into a painful twist, had the satisfaction of hearing the word she had been yearning for from Regina all day.

"Yield," she muttered into the dirt, a decidedly filthy look on her face.

Emma released the arm from its painful hold but did not move the rest of her. Emma wasn't sure if it was their mutual tiredness or something else, but she wasn't sure she ever wanted to move off her body.

Finally Regina shifted. "_Miss Swan?"_

Emma relented and slid off, eyeing the brunette closely. The other woman sat up and stared, her chest rapidly heaving to suck in a breath.

Emma smiled winningly. "Not that I minded."

"What Miss Swan?" Regina muttered, brushing the dirt off her chest.

"You spooning me. Last night."

"I have no idea what you are talking about." Regina growled.

"Yeah," Emma grinned. "Sure you don't. You are better than a hot water bottle, though. So what's next?"

Regina looked faintly relieved at the topic shift and stood. She lifted her arm straight up.

During training they had talked about all sorts of combatants, human, troll, giant, bird, wolf, and large cats. But they hadn't talked about magic. Emma had half expected the brunette to avoid the topic – it was the woman's key form of survival after all. And Regina had pointed out only a day ago that they were on opposite sides.

So it was with some surprise when the brunette looked up at her hand and said, "You must learn how to fend off a magic attack. Your sword is one of several in the realm that has the power to do this. Stand."

Emma scrambled to her feet. Regina pointed to her raised hand. "Almost all magic attacks come from directly above, or head height. Knowing this gives you a huge advantage. To counter a fireball attack, with multiple targets raining down on you, you must be able to perform the Dragon's Breath Swirl – that is a quick swirling of the sword, like this."

Regina demonstrated a complicated circular manoeuvre with her arm first, and then showed her with the stick. She dropped her eyes and stared at Emma expectantly. "Your turn."

Emma copied the tactic as best she could and looked at Regina hopefully. The brunette snapped: "That is nowhere near good enough. You would be a sizzling pile of ashes by now if even a sorcerer's apprentice launched an attack. Come on, this is important."

Emma stared back in surprise. Their easy interplay and almost flirt-fighting seemed to have faded, and Regina was deadly serious. Not to mention relentless.

She gave no quarter and by the end of their drills Emma felt as though her arm was about to fall off. They had just finished the last session, a strange figure-eight motion in front of her chest that apparently warded off frost spells, when Regina straightened.

"That was adequate, Miss Swan. I suppose it will have to do."

Emma looked at her quizzically as she lowered her weapon to the dirt, barely hanging on to it, her hand was so tired from gripping it hard for hours. She opened her mouth but shut it again.

"You have a question?" Regina asked, tossing her wooden sticks aside and wiping her hands wearily.

"Why are you showing me all this magic defence stuff? You're the Evil Queen. I'm the White Knight. Isn't that like a conflict of interest?"

Regina suddenly stepped right inside Emma's space. Her eyes were instantly dark and her hand felt her way down for Emma's, prising the sword from her grasp. She dropped it to the ground and laced her fingers tightly in Emma's, giving it a fierce, tight squeeze.

"You will be the one to protect Henry soon. And in a land that now holds magic no less. I will not have him die because you weren't prepared for _anything_ that might come. That matters to me more than everything else. Even my life."

_Henry_. Emma looked down at their entwined hands. She decided the mayor had earned the right to know. And she had proved where her loyalties lay, beyond question.

"Regina," she said. "Henry had a message for you this morning."

The brunette stiffened and Emma could plainly see the fear cross her features, as though bracing herself for an assault.

"He wanted you to know he was thinking of you."

Regina's eyes blinked rapidly. Emma felt Regina's pulse leap beneath her fingers. Her mouth opened slightly. And the blonde could see tears forming in the mayor's eyes. She shut them quickly.

"There's something else." Emma swallowed. "You wanted to know why I'm here with you. What my motive is."

Regina's eyes flickered open and she locked onto Emma's orbs. "Yes, Miss Swan. _Do tell_." Her voice was a thin husk now, but the implied threat remained.

"It was Henry," Emma said softly. "He was afraid for you and begged me to keep you safe, and protect you. Your son … our son. Loves you. I thought you should know."

Emma never thought she'd ever hear a more heart-rending, strangled sound in her life. Regina gasped, eyes widening as she accepted the truth of Emma's words. She pulled her hand from Emma's grip and formed a white tight fist.

"Henry," she cried out. Then sank to her knees, dropping her head, averting her face from Emma. Tears began to stream down her cheeks. She lifted her hands to her face and covered the tears. Hiding her weakness.

Emma knelt beside her, unsure what to say or do. This was completely out of her area of expertise.

Heaving breaths were coming from the other woman, her back shuddering.

"Regina, don't cry," Emma said softly. "This is a good thing, right?" She placed her arm across the brunette's back and stroked it.

The mayor allowed it for a moment and then seemed to gather herself. Finally, she rose, and stepped away abruptly from Emma's comforting touch.

"Thank you for delivering his message, Miss Swan," she said, voice cracking. Her eyes were red rimmed. She looked away again. Not before Emma saw her expression - emotionally shredded and bare, completely naked. Not like anything she had ever before seen on the fierce woman's face. It was raw.

"I think we should head back. It's well after time for food." Regina said to the air in front of her, voice quavering.

She snatched up her vest from the ground and strode away before Emma had a chance to say another word. The blonde stared after her in astonishment, watching her disappear unsteadily back up the path. She quickly grabbed her sword and followed.

.

**Author's note: OK next chapter is the big one… massive developments ahead. Stay tuned. And feed the pigeons, if you can. Reviews are like seeing Regina in a tank top. Some things just make you want to write fanfiction.  
**


	9. Chapter 9

**THE DEBT**

**By Scribes and Scrolls**

**.  
Author's note: OK I've bumped the rating up to M for the violence and language. Warning: There is child abuse referenced in this. Righty-ho, so I seem to have written a 12,000-word heaving behemoth this chapter. Bloody hell! Truly, my beta reader is a saint. Buckle up!**

**.**

**PART NINE: BROKEN**

Emma sat in the pool allowing its intoxicating waters to take care of her aches after four hours of training, while her mind meandered over the events of the day. Regina had demanded some alone time - although, being Regina, she had phrased it a little differently.

"You stink, Miss Swan," she had announced with a flare of nostrils the moment they had returned to the cottage. She then pointed to the side door and waited, eyes narrowed. Emma took the hint, grabbed a towel and trudged wearily down the path.

She hoped the brunette was using the time to process her issues or have a good cry or whatever the hell she needed to. She never thought she'd see the day, but she missed the woman's bitchy normal self. It was almost comforting in its white-noise hum of mockery and fiery insults.

Her stomach rumbled and Emma realised it had been hours since her bowl of porridge with cinnamon and a side of bad attitude. Mainly her fault, she conceded. She probably could clean up dishes sooner rather than later. But there was something about the way Regina would talk down to her like a dim-witted five-year-old that made her more contrary than a goat.

She sighed. Time to face the bear pit. Emma stood, startling some nearby birds, as she rose like a water goddess from the pool, rivulets sluicing down her toned body. She reached for her towel.

. . . . . . . .

Emma could tell something was wrong the moment she cracked the door. Her senses, long used to pursuing fugitives, could almost smell the shift in the air. It was hard to explain ... like fear left a foul residue. Emma's eyes darted suspiciously around the cottage. They fell on the bed. Regina lay sprawled out, _sprawled__?__!_, absorbed in an old book.

Emma paused. The book was upside-down. And the small hands holding it were white and trembling slightly. Her hair looked … _weird_. Sticking up at an odd angle at the back. Emma's eyes flicked to the kitchen. Her nose detected Regina's bitter brew. She headed for the sink and peered in. Two coffee mugs. Two spoons. Both _dirty_. Sitting in a puddle of coffee. As though they'd been poured in, undrunk.

She opened the front door and gazed out. _Nothing_. Only a small bird stared at her unblinkingly from a nearby tree. She stared back.

Something niggled at the back of her mind but Emma was distracted when she heard a small sniffle behind her. She gave the vista a final intense scan and then closed the front door and walked softly back to the sleeping area. She crouched beside the bed, by Regina's head, and said quietly: "Hey, what's up?"

The book shifted even closer to the mayor's face.

"I can see it's upside-down, Regina." She reached over and very slowly inched it down from the brunette's face, pulling one tight white hand away from it. Her eyes were red-rimmed. Emma knew she'd been crying earlier about Henry but something made her do a double take.

Terror.

She could count on one hand the number of times she'd seen the formidable woman afraid before. And most of those times had been in the past 48 hours. But this was something else entirely.

"Who was here, Regina?" she asked quietly.

"No one," came a defiant croak.

Emma sighed. "Well 'no one' has done a fairly good job at messing you up, haven't they?" She didn't mean it to sound accusing, but even so the brunette's eyes gave a flash of indignation.

"OK then," Emma said, taking the book out of her hands completely and pulling her up to sitting position. Her eyes fell to Regina's right hand. _Was that blood?_ But she could see no sign of any wound. _What the hell was going on?_

"We don't have to talk about your visitor right now. But I think you should go and have a bit of a pick-me-up soak."

Regina started to protest, but Emma interjected, holding up her hand. "Don't bother. Go now or I'll haul you down there over my shoulder if I have to. Now come on."

She guided Regina down the path with surprisingly little protest.

But when they arrived the brunette stared vacantly at the bubbling waters. Emma waited then finally asked: "Do you need a hand to ... you know?" She gestured vaguely to the brunette's clothes.

The other woman scowled and her eyes focused. "I think _not_," she retorted. "I have been undressing myself for years before you showed up."

Emma nodded, not rising to the bait, and quashing down an unbidden mental image that came with that particular statement. "OK. I'll be back with a fresh towel in a minute to check on you. Unless you'd prefer me to stay and ... stand guard?"

Regina ignored her, reaching down to take off her shoes. Eventually she gave a tiny huff: "Don't be ridiculous."

Emma raised her hands and in mock surrender and retreated. "Fine. Call out if you need anything."

. . . . . . . .

Emma chopped her platter of vegetables and meats efficiently. It was by no means as neat as Regina might have done, but the brunette was in no condition to be near sharp knives or doing anything that required functioning brain cells right now.

_Hmm_. Emma's fingers hovered over her food selection. Regina loved a little feta, so Emma quickly cubed a pile and added that to the wooden board. She washed her hands and grabbed the platter, pausing to find a towel, and headed for the spa.

Regina popped open puffy eyes as the blonde came down the path, bearing food and a towel. Emma had re-dressed in a pair of Regina's pale canvas pants and a faded cotton cream shirt.

The sheriff settled herself cross-legged at the pool's edge, choosing to ignore the pile of clothes beside her which once again signified the brunette was naked.

"Thought you might be hungry." She placed the platter on the bank and waited.

The mayor closed her eyes again. "I am not a pity case, Miss Swan," she said hoarsely.

"Never said you were, Regina. Don't know about you, though, but all that training made me ravenous." She helped herself to some sun-dried tomatoes and then held aloft a particularly enticing piece of feta before downing it with a delighted moan.

Regina's eyes snapped open again and watched her, her nose twitching.

_Definitely a feta junkie.  
_  
"Perhaps a little ... snack," Regina conceded and worked her way around to where Emma was, this time making the effort to keep her body within public-decency laws.

The blonde was relieved. She was on a humanitarian mission for God's sake; she didn't need any torturous distractions.

Regina's trembling fingers reached for a crumbly white cube of cheese and Emma saw her lick her lips in anticipation.

The sheriff grinned. After the feta cube disappeared, Regina glanced at the platter and began to slowly graze. Her eyes still looked haunted though, so the blonde decided to take her mind off her weightier issues.

She cleared her throat and announced breezily: "Granny has offered to marry us."

Regina's eyes widened. She half choked and looked accusingly at Emma.

"_What_? I thought you said..."

Emma laughed. "Yeah, you heard right. There's been some hot rumour flying around Storybrooke in our absence that we ran away together for love-nesting purposes." She gave "love nesting" rakish air quotes to add to the salaciousness.

Regina's eyebrows were crawling up her forehead. She looked simultaneously appalled and intrigued.

Emma gave a throaty chuckle. "It's since been corrected - much to Mary Margaret's enormous relief, I might add. But it was nice of Gran to offer, right?"

She was stirring the pot now but that was the point.

"_Nice_, Miss Swan? I think we've already covered both our views on marriage." Regina said disapprovingly. However her lips gave a tell-tale quirk.

Emma relaxed a little and countered: "Well the love nest theory is better than the alternative about the 'defeated wicked queen fleeing town pursued by sheriff', surely?"

"Depends on the sheriff," Regina deadpanned. Her eyes suddenly flicked curiously to Emma, finally registering her state of dress. "Aren't you getting in?"

Emma looked at her, puzzled. "I've already been in. Don't you remember?"

Regina's eyes clouded over in confusion. "Oh. Yes," she said weakly. "That's right." Her eyes slid up to the blonde's wet hair as if seeking confirmation and nodded.

Emma was not even slightly convinced. "Regina ... while I was in the pool, what were you doing?" she asked gently.

"I..." Regina sucked in her lower lip. She frowned. Her eyes instantly regained their frightened expression. She brought a shaky hand up to knead her temple.

Emma put a hand on her shoulder. "Never mind. We can talk about it later."

Regina's relief was palpable.

They sat in silence for a while. Finally the brunette locked eyes with Emma's and said with a dark whisper: "About Henry ... I am not happy you kept that information from me for so long. That was cruel."

Emma looked down at the ground, exhaling sharply. "I was looking after Henry's interests," she said quietly. "I needed to know where your loyalties lay, and what your plans were."

A small snort. "You _still _don't know what my plans are."

"Neither do you."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I just know."

Regina's face tightened. "You think you know me so well, my dear. In truth you know only what I have chosen to let you know."

"If you say so," Emma said with a shrug. "But I do know one thing about you that very few people do."

"I can only imagine." Regina affected indifference.

"I know you really do love Henry."

A shadow passed the mayor's face and her intensity returned, but this time the pain seemed absent. "Yes," she said seriously. "I do."

"And I know that it's mutual," Emma grinned and leaned back, relaxed.

Regina's face lit up unconsciously. She smiled then - one of her rare, completely genuine smiles. Emma felt her breath catch. She could look so beautiful when she did that.

Then the shutters came back down again and the smile faded. The blonde watched a bleakness settle over the mayor's face. Her heart sank. _Ah hell._

_. . . . . . . .  
_

The rest of the day had passed excruciatingly slowly. If Emma didn't know better, she'd say Regina had a concussion. Which was absurd. And yet, still…

By unspoken agreement they had retired to bed in the afternoon and just lain there, staring at the ceiling. Every now and then one of them would talk about something completely innocuous and safe, but conversation would soon die. It was clearly a struggle for the brunette.

By nightfall, Regina simply changed clothes and crawled into bed. Emma stoked the fire, then sighed and followed suit. The easy, fascinating, teasing conversation of the previous day was a distant memory, and it seemed every line of the brunette's body was rigid with stress.

Finally Emma couldn't take the other woman's obvious anxiety anymore. She had slid over to the brunette curled miserably in the foetal position and said: "Regina ... it's cold tonight. Do you mind if I ... if we..."

She faded out. It had been the best excuse she could think of that wouldn't result in fury or outrage or offended sensibilities but even as she was saying it, she knew it sounded lame.

Regina didn't speak for a few minutes and Emma wondered if she had even heard her. But then she whispered: "If you must, Miss Swan."

So Emma had gently arranged herself so she was spooned around the brunette, trying her hardest to ease the tension knotting the brunette's limbs.

She heard the tiniest of sighs, and felt her relax. Within half an hour she was asleep.

Emma regarded the contradictory bundle wrapped in her arms. Normally she was larger-than-life fire and fury. Now she was ice. And so very small.

Emma fretted over the day's events. Who had come to visit? What had they said to make her so afraid? She must have known them or she never would have made coffee. But was it a friend? Or foe?

With Regina, she knew, many of her foes were friends, and vice versa. Certainly, if Emma and Maleficent were any indication, maybe _all _her friends she had a contentious relationship with. And then there was the blood. Emma cursed inwardly that she had left her alone – wishing she could have been there to prevent whatever had taken place.

The thing she never could have predicted was how protective she now felt - especially for one who had wreaked so much havoc in her life. Which was why this was one of the strangest hours of Emma's life. Emma was NOT a cuddler. Never had been. Probably never would be ever again.

So why had she felt content wrapping her arms around the soft, shapely body of Storybrooke's prickly mayor? She knew, at that moment, with the brunette safe in her arms, that her chaotic, stupid, crazy world felt suddenly ... _right_. And that was more weird than Emma could deal with right now.

. . . . . . . . . .

When the blonde woke the next day, Regina was already out of bed, making them breakfast. Fully dressed this time. It made Emma wonder if her earlier seductive flashes of skin had all been a deliberate show and now she simply wasn't in the mood for flirting.

The blonde propped her head up on her hand and watched her as the brunette made her way efficiently around the kitchen. Regina pulled two cups close to her, and was about to pour her coffee, when Emma saw her whole body tense.

_Remembering something? _Emma wondered. Then the black liquid coursed into ceramic and Regina turned, catching sight of Emma watching her.

"Breakfast," she stated, eyeing the prone figure in bed. "Or do you plan to lounge around all day?"

"I thought I'd head out and check my messages, maybe pick up some more apples by the lake – we're running low," Emma said, her eyes warming in surprise as Regina brought coffee and a bowl of porridge over to bed.

"Oooh room service," the blonde drawled appreciatively, noting the cinnamon sprinkled liberally on her oats. "I like it."

Regina gave a hint of a smile. "Don't get used to it, Miss Swan. You must have caught me in a weakened moment." Then she froze. They both did. A flush rose up Regina's face and Emma reached over and caught her hand.

"Um... look. Ah... thanks," was all she could think to say, as she realised she couldn't touch half a dozen of the unexploded conversational grenades they had both been avoiding.

Regina just nodded and backed away immediately. "Make sure you take your sword. Remember what happened last time."

"You don't want to come with me?"

The brunette shook her head. "I think I'll stay here. Relax a bit."

Emma felt vaguely disappointed, but she was the first to agree Regina looked as if she had been to hell and back and needed the rest.

An hour later and Emma was ready to open the front door, cellphone in pocket, when a hand reached out and snagged her arm. Hard.

"Miss Swan," the brunette said harshly. "I said don't forget your sword."

Emma blinked in surprise at the demand, took the sword and looked at the fingernail divots left in her forearm. _Ouch. Shit. Point made._

_. . . . . . . . . . .  
_

As Emma sat beside the hatch, waiting for reception to kick in, she watched a quartet of birds circling from on high. They flew with perfect precision. She heard a beep and glanced at the phone. Six messages. OK, well that was more normal at least.

"Emma, it's Red, um, Ruby. Soooo sorry to hear you and Regina aren't doing the horizontal watoozi. God knows Madame Mayor needs the stick taken out of her..." Emma chuckled over the obscenity in spite of herself. "And I was _so _sure you two were up for it, too. In fact there's still time. Hell, Granny isn't giving up. She's working on wedding bunting. _Just in case. _Oh, and she wants to know: Do you want to wear the tux on the cake decorations, or Regina?"

Emma snickered and moved to the next message, but not before picturing Regina in a tux. Her brain momentarily short-circuited.

Henry's message was simple. He expressed his love for both his mothers, in a roundabout way and with plenty of well-placed "ums". Emma grinned and decided she'd play that one back for Regina later. Maybe it'd cheer her up.

David's message was enthusiastic and to the point: He thanked her for explaining the whereabouts of his sword, and then cryptically added it was "obviously in good hands".

_Huh?  
_  
And then there was Mary Margaret...

"Emma! When were you planning on telling me you battled a DRAGON? I mean, for heaven's sake, I have to find out from Grumpy who said he pulled your father's sword out of its ashy still-smoking remains after you'd left? He found a whole bunch of sheriff-issued bullet casings, too, so don't bother telling me it was Regina. Oh ... and your father is _very _proud of you by the way. I simply can't wipe the smug look off his face."

"Em, that reminds me," Mary Margaret continued in her next message, "Have you seen Mr Gold in your travels? He seems to have absconded. The town is a little upset. With both him _and _Regina gone, they are resorting to burning their likenesses for … anger management. Well, OK to be fair, it's not the whole town anymore. Just Grumpy and one disgruntled mechanic." There was a pause as she mused to no one in particular. "I don't think Regina would be at all happy with the ugly pantsuits they have her effigy in."

Emma winced. _Charming_. She would not be sharing that detail with Regina.

"Oh, by the way, Em," her mother cut in again, a frown evident in her voice, "would you have any idea why Granny is persisting with ordering wedding cake ingredients? And working on a banner that says 'Good for you, you're gay (and married)'?"

. . . . . . . . .

It had been a week in the little cottage and Regina and Emma had now fallen into a pattern. Snuggling at night – not named or discussed but thoroughly enjoyed, at least on the blonde's part (Regina never objected however), breakfast in bed from the mayor each morning (Emma was now extremely good at leaping up and washing the dishes afterwards), text message checks, lunch, training for three or four hours, then a few hours flopped on bed chatting – often entailing Regina reviewing the day's training but sometimes they strayed into other things.

Regina had actually complimented her – accidentally, probably, Emma thought with a grin – on her sword-fighting progress. But it was true – Emma could also see she now used a sword effortlessly, as an extension of herself. Regina would bark out the name of some spell and Emma would immediately drop into position and perform the desired counter measure.

One of those post-training chats had led Emma to ask how Regina knew so much about something no young queen would ever be instructed in.

"I hope you never have to find yourself married to an old monarch to discover just how tedious palace life can be," Regina had sighed, closing her eyes, calling up some memory. "I would often escape court and hide out, watching the captain of the guard training his men in various fighting techniques.

"It actually suited my tactical mind," Regina mused. "It was a part of me I never knew I possessed until then. I became particularly adept at predicting which of the soldiers would fall and which would be victorious in the sessions. And," she flashed a proud smile, "I was never wrong.

"When I tired of knowing who would win, I came up with a new mental game, determining what each defeated soldier should have done – which grip, stance, manoeuvre, to have crushed his superior opponent.

"I tested it by showing a few of the fallen men what to try next time, swearing them to secrecy as to who had coached them. And each time it worked perfectly.

"The captain grew suspicious, though, that some of his men were developing skills he had not taught them and questioned them until one of them broke. He was outraged I, a mere woman, was meddling and complained to Leopold.

"The king took his side, saying a woman should not interfere in men's affairs she did not understand. I was barred from attending any more training sessions." Regina's eyes flashed darkly. "_Affairs I did not understand?_ _Please_! I had his men WINNING!"

Emma patted Regina's thigh. "It was jealousy, you know that."

"Of course I do! It was just so … galling." Regina ground her teeth.

Emma put herself in Regina's position – despite being queen she had no power at all to determine any part of her fate. Like being imprisoned, while everyone assumed you were having the time of your life.

"Must have been so lonely," she said aloud before she could stop herself.

Regina gave her a sharp look. "I do hope you're not thinking of pitying me, my dear, or your next training session will be performed barefoot on hot coals while blindfolded."

"Nooo, Regina," Emma grinned. "Pity-free zone over here. You were and are a hard ass."

"Good answer, Miss Swan. Anyway, suffice to say, I have had years of pent-up combat insights to inflict on you."

Emma, shoulders still aching from the extensive drills, nodded. "I had noticed."

By evening, deliciously exhausted, they would take turns having a spa and head to bed. Sometimes Regina would read for an hour by candlelight. Sometimes they would talk. Often it was about Henry, or Emma's generally ridiculous adventures as a bounty hunter. One story actually had Regina almost in stitches of laughter, although in hindsight Emma thought it probably had more to do with the fact Emma had wound up without pants on a public thoroughfare. The mayor did seem to like stories involving the sheriff's humiliation.

Emma didn't mind. It had been good getting her to smile again.

One thing they had not discussed, though, was who had visited Regina that day. Emma hated the twisted, awful expression that would wash over Regina's face whenever she raised it. So the blonde had stopped asking.

Every now and then the brunette would question Emma about her family – what Henry had said in his messages and texts, what Snow and James were doing in her absence. Emma wondered at the latter – Regina always had such a curious expression on her face that the sheriff couldn't place.

Sometimes she asked about Rumplestiltskin, but no one had seen him since the spell broke. Regina would then scowl, and a faraway expression would cross her face.

And then they would turn in, pretending each time that _this_ night they would stay on their own side of the bed. Once, as an experiment, Emma had done just that. She had been gratified, mere minutes later, to hear the muffled and miffed growl: "Sheriff Swan, it's cold. You are neglecting your duties."

Emma had laughed and scooted over. The thing she most loved about that was it wasn't really cold that night.

. . . . . . . . . .

By the end of the week, Emma was sick of the sight of chorizo sausage. And salami. She decided they needed a different source of protein. She wasn't brave enough to take down any of the possibly intelligent and self-aware game she had seen stray close to their cottage from time to time. But she thought she might be able to tackle fishing once more.

"I'm all for variety, Miss Swan," was all Regina had said when she suggested it. The mayor offered to prepare her a lunch – because, as she explained, "Knowing your track record at fishing, you'll be gone all day, my dear".

Regina packed her some apples, a canteen of water and some crusty damper rolls – flour, salt and water, kneaded into a ball, and cooked on the wood-fired oven coals for several hours produced the most delicious almost-bread Emma had ever tasted.

She found herself disappointed Regina didn't want to join her, but the mayor obviously had her reasons.

Regina had pushed the food bundle into her hand, along with her fishing kit and sword, and before she could stop herself said "Stay safe".

The brunette froze.

Emma's eyebrows had shot up. She started to smile. Her last look was seeing a thoroughly embarrassed mayor slamming the door quickly on Emma's rapidly developing smirk, cursing to herself.

Emma laughed heartily and headed off.

. . . . . . . .

The fish were not biting. Emma had checked the bait a few times but that wasn't it. Maybe it was the wrong time of day or she was just lousy at it. She had been there for hours and was about to give away the game as a bad idea when a large shadow fell across her. She almost jumped in shock.

How had she not heard the approach? Her hand immediately dropped to her sword.

"No need for that, dear," the elderly woman said lightly and slowly lowered herself down beside Emma on the log. The sheriff narrowed her eyes.

"Who are you?" she asked, eyeing the stranger in her regal golden silks with flowing brown hair, flecked with grey.

The woman tilted her head. "You may call me Your Majesty," she said. "Or the Queen of Hearts if you want my full title." She slid a gnarled finger to her knee and smoothed out non-existent wrinkles in her willowy dress.

Emma stared at her, taking in every aspect of her. She seemed wealthy, upper-crust, accustomed to being obeyed. Most likely she really was royalty. But she gave off a creep vibe that Emma couldn't shake. She smiled often, but her eyes just looked through her, calculating, assessing, weighing.

When Emma didn't respond, the woman continued. "I must say, dear you have been intriguing me. Well not just me - many of us. Both here and there," she waved her hand in the direction of the hatch.

"How do you know who I am? If you actually do?" Emma said suspiciously.

There was supercilious laughter that set Emma's teeth on edge.

"My dear, everyone knows who you are. Sheriff. White Knight. Emma Swan. Take your pick. Some of the animals aligned with Snow and James even call you the saviour. Although that's a bit rich don't you think?"

"Why does anyone care about me?" Emma frowned. "Really - I'm no one."

"My dear, you broke the curse," the woman said. "And if that's not enough, you're helping the woman who enacted it." Her voice dropped a few octaves, and Emma felt as if the queen's dark brown eyes were boring into her like a diamond drill

"What makes you say that," Emma asked darkly, seriously not liking how much she seemed to know about her.

"Oh, I see," the queen gave a long-suffering sigh as if greatly aggrieved. "We're going to do this the _hard_ way?" She pursed her lips and lifted her arm, and Emma could see a bunch of beautiful golden bangles. One of them was ringed by a series of little gold hearts.

Four birds immediately flew into view and landed nearby. One of them hopped forward and jumped on the woman's outstretched finger. Emma suddenly cursed inwardly. _Of course. _She'd seen these strange creatures when she'd first escaped into the Infinite Forest. She inspected the curious markings, the white around their necks. Definitely the same type of birds. It made a faintly mechanical sound.

"They're not ... real are they," she asked the queen.

"Very observant, dear," she replied. "No they're not. They are incredibly rare, so very hard to find, even harder to make - an artisan takes years and years, working around the clock, to produce just one. I have four and they are my pride and joy."

"But what _are _they exactly?" Emma asked.

"Scout birds dear. They're how I found you. And _her_."

Emma eyed her suspiciously. Regina had told her their cottage was impossible to locate. Someone was lying.

"Oh yes, yes, I know all about Regina's fancy hidden location spell," the queen waved her arm dismissively at Emma's expression. "She paid through the nose for it, too. But the stupid fool only enchanted her _cottage_. As soon as the curse broke I heard about it in my realm.

"I expected she would make a run for it, so I simply instructed my scout birds to roam the lands and home in on any hatch lock that suddenly became active. Hatch locks produce an intense magical signature when they first light up. And one did activate, not far from here. And look who should be spat out of it."

She made an odd hand signal and the bird's mouth opened. A strange holographic image appeared, the bird projecting it onto thin air. Emma stared. It was an image, no wait, footage, captured from above, of her sitting next to Regina on the log when she had first exited. Their body language was ... deceptively intimate.

Emma slid her eyes to the other woman's and realised she hadn't missed a trick. "Yes, so you can see why I would find this so fascinating. The White Knight and the witch - allies?"

"Allies? Hardly," Emma hedged. "Where I'm from, she's evil. And I am a bounty hunter."

"Where I'm from she is, too," the older woman said, peering at her closely. "So do you usually live with the fugitives you're tracking?"

"When I have nowhere else to go when a hatch is locked, why not? I know she's not going anywhere."

"Mmm," said the other woman, narrowing her eyes sceptically. "Then perhaps you can tell me why my wolf reports you saved _her _life when he was about to take a tasty bite? I mean it's not like you're fond of her or anything…" Her mouth somehow turned the word 'fond' into an obscenity.

Emma started. "_Your _wolf?"

"Well to be fair, he's his own wolf. But he is allied with my head hunter. Semantics, dear. You interfered with his kill and begged him to leave you both alone. Not just yourself, but the wicked witch as well. So he came back and reported this odd turn of events to his master. So you will forgive me when I ask, _why _are you helping her?"

"You seem to have all the answers," Emma folded her arms, "You tell me."

The queen looked vaguely irritated. "I must say, my dear, it is puzzling. I had thought the evil witch would leave you and rush straight off to her old castle. Of course had she done so she would have had a rather rude surprise." A delightedly sadistic expression crossed her face.

Emma sucked in a breath. "What do you mean?"

"Well, politics changes when you leave your kingdom for a few decades. Like in your world. Regina's mother is in ascendency in these lands now - Queen Cora, she calls herself. And she did a deal with your father's father, King George. A king who is as ruthless as he is cunning.

"He provided her castle with an army. She provides him with magic and spells. They have quite the alliance and, if the rumours are true, they share more than just _political_ interests. Had your wicked witch showed up on her doorstep, I'm not sure what Queen Cora would have made of this threat to her power. She is ruthless enough to toss her in the dungeon, or _worse_.

"But then Regina did not do what we all expected. And, as I have discovered, she is tucked up in a tiny cottage … with _you_, dear."

Emma listened in silence. She had learned more about Regina's mother in the last minute than she had in the last six months.

"You keep calling her the wicked witch," Emma finally said, "not the evil queen like everyone else. Why is that?"

For the first time Emma saw a shift in the royal's implacable demeanor. "A most perceptive question, young princess. Let's see, she is impulsive and cruel, cursed everyone because her own sappy love life didn't work out. She was never too particular about how common the male was she shared her bed with. Well, I simply don't think she's royal material. Not like Snow and James. Wouldn't you say?"

"I have no idea," Emma said darkly, finding herself oddly annoyed at the woman's character assassination. "Never really known any royalty before - who knows how they work?" Emma feigned indifference.

The queen eyed her. "Really?" she asked, looking genuinely puzzled. "But you are related to royalty, my dear - you must know your parents better than anyone else."

Emma shrugged at that. "Um. I guess?"

The woman's face underwent myriad changes. "I see…" she said slowly.

Well that made one of them. Because Emma could not fathom the purpose of her questions at all.

"So what do you think of Regina?" the queen asked sweetly. "She's also royalty, and you seem to be … close … to her."

Emma ignored the question. "How do you know her?"

The royal waved a hand indifferently. "We have had some dealings," she said. "Actually she stole something of mine. Did you know she was a thief?"

"Regina is many things but not a thief," Emma said defensively. "I suspect if she stole something, it was probably hers to begin with."

The older woman laughed at that. "You know, perhaps you do know her rather well. You are actually quite right."

Her laughter died on her lips and she leaned in. "So tell me, dear, why are you with her? What is in it for you?"

Emma knew danger when she saw it. "As I said, she is evil. I am watching her. You must keep your enemies close."

She saw an irritated flash of fire in the other woman's eyes and realised she had not convinced her of anything.

"Well dear, it has been lovely chatting to the fabled White Knight, but I really should head back. Can you help me up, I am not as young as I used to be."

Instinctively Emma reached out to lift the woman's elbow and as she did so the old woman shot out her hand and leaned it against her chest, as if to push off from her. Instead…

Emma's eyes flew down to the hand, directly over her heart and felt the oddest sensation. She saw a flash.

"What did..." she shook her head to clear it. Then she growled: "What did you DO to me?"

"Why nothing, dear," the woman said with saccharine sweetness. "Merely took your emotional pulse. And you have a few matters of the heart weighing you down, don't you dear?" She sneered, and a flash of perfect white teeth lit her face.

"How dare you! You have no right!" Emma was outraged.

"I am the Queen of Hearts," the woman snapped, standing to full height. And as she did so Emma realised she was neither as old as she had first appeared nor even slightly infirm. "When it comes to hearts, I do whatever I like." The older woman's voice dropped as she glanced pointedly in the direction of the cottage and added, "To _whomever _I like."

With a flash of magic, she was suddenly gone. Emma felt the sickest sensation.

_Oh god. Regina!_ She immediately grabbed her sword and began to run full speed._  
_

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Emma felt her heart was bursting, her thighs were weak from pounding over uneven terrain and the sword suddenly seemed to be weighing a tonne. She was exhausted by the time she rounded the last rock and could see the cottage in sight.

She heard a strange noise and edged around the side of the cottage wall. There, in front of the shack, to her horror was the Queen of Hearts. She was holding Regina aloft in the air and jangling her like a ragdoll.

A shout of protest died in her throat. Regina's words came back to her. Wait, assess, don't rush in. Get the tactical advantage. Know your enemy. Learn your enemy. Find the weakness, THEN strike.

She gripped her sword tightly, trying hard to remain coldly impassive to be a more effective warrior, when an even more horrifying sight assailed her.

The brunette was weeping. And begging for mercy. _Regina Mills – fuck-you-all-Mayor-Mills was begging like a traumatised, tortured little girl._ And Emma had seen enough of those in her time in the foster system to know it takes years of cruelty and abuse to make anyone _this_ broken. No one can just fling you around a few times and get you this messed up. Especially not someone like Regina.

Emma had no doubt that this vile bitch had probably taken great delight in doing this particular act of abuse multiple times to make Regina such a quivering mess. And given she was in a child-like state, speaking and crying out like a small girl, Emma also knew this had begun when she was very young.

_What a sick, sadistic piece of work._ The blonde's blood was boiling. She quickly assessed possible attack points, exits. There was little in the way of cover, so the moment she stepped out from the shadow of the cottage it would be on. Grinding her teeth, she decided she had no choice but to bide her time.

Regina cried out again, pleading, her voice rasping from having strained it so much. And then she surpassed the sheer awfulness of the scene by uttering three small words.

"Please mother, don't."

Emma choked on the bile threatening to rise. She screwed up her eyes. _Oh no._ No wonder Regina never ever talked about her. THIS abusive piece of dirt was her _mother_.

She shook her head. And she was the Queen of Hearts. Emma sat back heavily on her haunches, trying desperately to focus. So that meant all the things the queen said Cora would do to Regina if she saw her, _this_ woman wanted to do – lock her away for threatening her power. Or worse. She'd actually said "_or worse_".

And right now she was making good on that promise.

Cora Mills lifted her arm, and began to lash her daughter's back like an imaginary whip. The torture weapon might have been invisible but the welts on Regina's back were not. In just moments her smooth, beautiful back that Emma so loved to snuggle up against each night had opened up and begun to bleed freely, her shirt, barely hanging off her in ragged tatters. Then her mother waved her arm again and ripped the shreds of shirt off her, leaving her upper body a naked bloodied mess.

Regina was now mumbling her pleas, head hanging against her chest, like a mantra. "Please mother no, I'll be good, I will. Please mother…"

"Look at you. Ugly and dirty. A mess. Who would want to touch _you_? Or help you. Or even talk to you. You are a joke! I tell my friends I have no daughter so I don't have to bear the shame of them knowing you came from me."

Emma sucked in a shaky breath as a world of realities slammed into her. It was an actual miracle to Emma that Regina had any social skills at all, let alone was able to form any kind of mothering instincts when it came to Henry, if this was her maternal template.

"You are also a dirty little liar, aren't you my dear?"

Regina moaned softly and tried to shake her head.

"Don't you deny it!" Cora rounded on her daughter. "You told me you had a plan for Miss Swan. You told me you would use her attraction for you to your advantage. Milk it. Manipulate her, mine her for information. Plunder her! I have waited patiently, dear. I have waited a week. But I see no progress. In fact I am starting to suspect your loyalty to me."

"No mother," Regina rasped weakly. "I _am_ trying to exploit her. It takes time. She is stubborn."

Emma sucked in a breath. _What the hell? Regina was using her?_

Cora came close to Regina's face and lowered her voice. "So tell me – if she is so attracted to you, have you bedded her yet?"

Regina's face twisted in dismay.

"_Answer me!"_

Finally Regina shook her head.

Cora sighed. "What have I taught you about long-term tactical advantages? Did you learn nothing from my deal for you with Leopold? How do you think I am now a queen in my own right with my own castle and armies to command? Do you really think I am the only talented witch King George knows?

"We are WOMEN, Regina, in a cruel, cold world that treats us as commodities to be married or traded. It's time you grew up. What value is this White Knight in your clever little scheme if you have not mined her, heart and soul? Stop playing. And USE her," she gave a long-suffering sigh.

"At least tell me you are you _close_ to seducing her?"

Regina nodded in defeat, still unable to meet Cora's eyes.

Emma's throat tightened. Her eyes narrowed.

Cora stalked around her daughter in a circle. Assessing. Regina just hung in space, head lolling against her chest.

Broken.

"So," Cora demanded, eyes narrowing, "We have an understanding?"

Regina whispered hoarsely, not looking up: "Yes mother."

"You will seduce her soon, and give me every piece of intelligence you get from her doubtlessly insightful pillow talk?"

"Yes mother."

. . . . . . .

ONE WEEK AGO

Regina got up off the floor of the cottage and felt the back of her head. It came away coated with blood. It hurt, but no more so than it had hurt all those other times. Worse was the emotional chaos. She felt that familiar fear from her childhood skitter through her body, a fear she had spent a lifetime trying to hold at bay. She was alone and at _her_ mercy.

When Emma had first headed down to the pool Regina had exhaled in relief. She needed to get her mind around all that had been happening, what the blonde had finally revealed about Henry, and it was hard enough to do it with the blonde always right _there_. Always staring at her, as though trying to assess her soul or, every now and then, undress her body. Regina could probably save her the effort and give her the Cliffs Notes: Black heart, useless, unloved, unlovable, broken. Move along; nothing to see here.

She had sat down heavily at the kitchen table when she heard a knock at the front door. Her eyebrow rose. Swan didn't knock. And why was she at the front? Still, logic and the sheriff, like her and kitchen cleanliness didn't exactly go hand in hand.

"What did you forget?" Regina demanded as she flung it open.

_Oh. No. Please. No. No. No. No.  
_  
"Is that any way to greet your mother?" a woman with a wide, fake smile and glittering eyes asked as she strode in and took a look around.

"Oh dear God, you kept his things. That hideous bed spread? I'd hoped you'd burned it. And the ridiculous jars of pickles? My, my, how sentimental," she cooed. Then her voice dropped. "Especially seeing you ripped his heart out. Didn't you, dear."

It wasn't a question.

Regina felt the fear, familiar and cold, trickle up her spine like spidery fingers and fill her every synapse with terror. She tried to wipe the horror from her features, knowing that would only give the other woman more sick pleasure.

Cora glanced at her and smirked. "My dear, so pale. What ever are you thinking?"

"That I should get my golden unicorns refunded," Regina muttered.

"Unicorns? Oh, yes, you got the hidden location spell from the old crone Harriet? Well don't worry dear, the spell didn't fail you. _You_ failed you. As always. Thinking anything other than _small _never was your strong suit, was it dear?"

Regina ground her teeth and watched the other woman. "What do you want mother?" she asked, schooling the emotion from her words. Any lilt or off tone could bring down vitriol. It was an emotional minefield she had walked a thousand times. It never made her less anxious or afraid, though.

"Can't a mother just visit her daughter to reminisce about old times?" she asked sweetly. "Find out what she's been up to. Or..." her eyes slid to the side door, in the direction of the path to the pond, "_who_?"

A burst of competing emotions hit Regina and she swallowed with effort. _Neutral expression. Neutral tone. Keep steady eye contact. _"What do you mean?"

"Well dear," Cora said conspiratorially as she seated herself at the table, "The forest is atwitter. They say you are now allied with the White Knight. I thought that was fairly unlikely, astonishing no less, so I felt I just had to see for myself. Find out what you're up to. What devious little scheme you might be putting into place."

Regina felt aghast. She quickly rose and began to make them both coffees, knowing even her mother couldn't read her expressions through her back.

"She's quite the pretty one, that one," Cora added knowingly. "My scout birds have given me a full account of her ... myriad assets."

Regina stiffened, and realised her breathing had become too shallow. _Breathe in and out. Keep it regular._ _Nothing to tip your hand. _She replied quickly. "I suppose," she said amiably, "if that's your thing."

"Hmm," Cora said eyeing her narrowly. "If you'd asked me last week what my daughter's cup of tea was I would have said dreary, bland, ridiculously old stable boys with even less brains than fashion sense."

Regina's hands formed tight fists and she turned, glaring. "You will not speak of Daniel that way!" Her words came out like a weak plea and she hated herself for them.

Cora's eyes lit up. "Aha, so I see he still flames your loins then? Hmm? OK so if she's not for entertainment purposes, then what's with the washed-out blonde? Do you have some plan for her? Something that might suggest to me that you are not completely useless?"

Regina closed her eyes._ Breathe. Sound sinister, she'll approve of that. Dark place. Killing Daddy. Oh god, dear Daddy. Yes. There._

"Oh I certainly do have plans for Miss Swan," Regina said with a cold snarl. "I have befriended her. I think she might be attracted to me, which is proving useful. I have been slowly getting intelligence and she will soon tell me what Snow and James plan in their attempt to take back their realm in the Enchanted Forest. Forewarned is forearmed, mother. You taught me that." _Flattery. Good. _

Cora eyed her, assessing, weighing. "Hmm. So you are telling me you are finally using your only viable asset," she flicked a hand up and down Regina's body, "to gain information?"

"She is a tactically rich resource," Regina said. "It doesn't matter that she repulses me," Regina gave a derisive laugh. "Now the curse is broken, I need to know what she knows. And more importantly, what her plans are. For her and that hideous family."

Cora watched her closely. A long bony finger reached out to the wooden table and began to tap it. "I know you have no love for her family. That is certainly true. As for the rest?" She stood and turned to leave. "I will have a think about whether I believe you, dear. Perhaps you may want to work on worming your way into her bed if she is that doe-eyed. Just a suggestion. In the meantime," her hand shot out and she gave her wrist a hard flick, flinging her daughter until she slammed into the ceiling. Then she slammed her back to the floor.

Regina cried out in shock and fear. "Please! Stop," she cried out.

Cora twisted her hand once more, snapping Regina's head back. "You're certain you are telling me everything? You haven't left out anything? I will find out if you're lying to me. So tell me now and save us both the trouble."

"N-no mother, of course I'm not."

Cora gave a cruel smile. "Well then. It seems you may have shown some initiative after all. Although even a fool gets things right occasionally. Befriending the White Knight could indeed prove useful. I will be waiting and watching. I expect a full report soon. Do not disappoint me – again," She let her hand drop.

Regina stared at the floor, unmoving, as Cora daintily closed the door as though she really was a queen.

Finally, a full 20 minutes after the door had clicked shut, Regina painfully rose, poured the untasted coffees down the sink and went to lie on the bed. Her head was pounding. She felt under her hair and could feel large lumps forming. She heard footsteps, quickly raked her fingers through her hair, and grabbed the nearest book.

. . . . . . .

PRESENT DAY

Cora leaned close to Regina's swinging body and gave her a disgusted look.

"So you have now agreed to seduce her for me," She eyed her daughter speculatively. "Somehow I don't think _you_ will find it too difficult, will you dear?"

"_Mother_?" Surprise and fear lit Regina's face.

Emma's head snapped up at the change in tone.

"You capitulated too easily," Cora snapped. "Just 'Yes mother'. Do you take me for a _fool_?"

Regina shook her head, eyes worried.

"You pathetic little liar," the older woman said coldly, eyes blazing. "I suspected it last week but now I know it's true. Emma Swan hasn't got a _clue_ about her parents. From an intelligence standpoint, which is what you claimed her value was, and why you said you were keeping her around, she is USELESS."

"No mother…I…"

"And before you utter one more lie, I _know_ she doesn't have anything worthwhile on her parents, because today I _asked_ _her myself_. And if you had done the same you would have reached the same conclusion. And since, despite all evidence to the contrary, you're not entirely stupid, I know that you KNEW that."

Regina turned around, a dangling broken puppet and Emma could see one eye was almost swollen shut. Her breasts were covered in blood. "You a-asked her? What did you do to her?"

Emma hissed in a breath. Regina actually sounded _afraid _for her.

"Ahh, so now we get to it," Cora scorned. "I might have guessed, you just want to toss a leg over the little tramp for _fun_. I swear you are as _basic _as your dim-witted father. You seem _incapable_ of learning. Making the same mistakes all over again. First the stable boy, now this pretty little fool.

"I suppose I should congratulate you, though, at least this time you chose royalty. Even if Emma Swan is the sorriest excuse for royalty I have ever seen."

Regina coughed and shook her head and a spray of blood flew from her mouth. One of Cora's hovering scout birds was coated with it and the older woman scowled in distaste. She held her arm out for it to land, and tenderly wiped its feathers clear of blood. She let it go and turned back to her daughter.

"Nothing to say to that, dear?" Cora magically lashed her again, this time driving the invisible weapon the other way so the gashes formed deep crosses.

"You really are small minded. When I first heard of the curse and realised it was yours, I felt faintly proud my daughter might have finally done something right. Something bold! Then I wondered what brilliant role you might have carved out for yourself in your exotic new world. President? Prime Minister? A captain of industry?"

She lowered Regina with a wave of her hand until she was at Cora's eye level. "And look what my dear daughter conjured up," she said sweetly.

"Mayor of Storybrooke. MAYOR! Of a backwater little town that means nothing to anyone, while you get to play bureaucrat and push papers around a desk for three decades!

"And then you made your former enemies inhabitants and gave them boring little jobs and chit-chatted with them every day while silently loathing them. _This_ was your grand plan for vengeance? What, you might issue a council violation against your former arch enemies? Decline their rezoning applications? Could you _get _any more provincial?"

Regina winced and turned away.

Cora slapped her. Hard. "You are a disgrace. Your vengeance is a joke. Your intelligence gathering is a lie. And you know what is even more pathetic? She's in LOVE with you."

Regina's mouth fell open. Emma's eyes bulged.

"_What_? No, mother! That's not possible. She hates … me," She faded out on the last three words, as if suddenly considering the possibility.

"You really didn't know, did you?" Cora stared at her, scorn in her eyes. "Well, dear, I touched her heart and it's as big a mess as yours is, but what I glimpsed inside - like a thin, pure white thread - was her love for _you_. Incredible isn't it. That anyone could love you. I know I was surprised. It's even more absurd when you consider she's the daughter of the one you despised enough to curse an entire realm."

Regina whispered through swollen lips: "… what you do t'her?"

Cora squeezed Regina's aching face, forcing a tortured grimace out of her. "Wouldn't you like to know, dear." She gave a mirthless cackle, raised her arm, preparing to strike anew. Cora's back was finally to the blonde and Emma leapt to her feet.

"_Get away from her, you WITCH_," she screamed and ran forward, sword high and swinging at Cora's head. She got within inches of her before she suddenly felt herself suspended.

_Ah crap._

Regina crashed to the ground, her puppet strings snipped. She lay crumpled, staring up with wide eyes as Emma took her place and twitched and turned helplessly in the air.

"Well, well, what do we have here? I did wonder when you'd show up. And what you might do if you did. It seems your interest in my daughter is a little deeper than merely professional after all. As is hers, I suspect."

She flicked her eyes back to Regina, daring her, seeing if she would contest her claim.

The brunette shook her head in denial, sweaty clumps of blood-soaked hair clinging to her face. Cora cackled. "Oh, so this one means nothing to you, daughter? _Really_? We shall see about that."

She jerked her arm and Emma face-planted into the ground viciously and then reverberated back up into the air, as though bouncing off a concrete trampoline. Emma let out a delayed moan, but clung to her sword for dear life.

Regina gasped and instinctively lifted her hand in a 'stop' gesture, then quickly pulled it down again. It was too late, Cora had noticed the futile motion. She gave a sly, nasty smile and renewed her violence on the blonde.

Emma knew she was going to have a very sore head after this. Assuming she survived. She cracked an eye and saw Regina cowering, battered and bruised and wearing an expression that Emma had never seen before on her – sorrow. For _Emma_.

Cora was ranting about something but Emma had tuned her out. She needed to concentrate. She was moving violently but suddenly felt herself become very still and centred inside. She locked her eyes with brown and saw the world of pain and violence and despair the mayor had been hiding for a lifetime.

_You are good enough,_ she thought fiercely as she looked at the wounded woman. _You are worthy. You DO matter. I will fight for you.  
_  
For just a moment, the way Regina's eyes widened, she wondered if she had heard her thoughts. But that would be absurd. _Right?_

She called up Regina's lesson on spell obstruction and centred her breathing, then drove her shoulders down with all her might so her sword bisected the space between her feet. Whatever invisible rope was holding her began to fray slightly so she did it again.

Cora froze mid-sentence. "How did you...?" She dropped Emma to the ground.

She lifted her arm to rain fire on her. _Fireballs_. She thought of the spell's name at the same moment she noticed Regina mouth the word to herself.

Emma easily sank to a knee and performed the Dragon's Breath Swirl. Her sword felt as part of her as her own arm, and despite a splitting headache and, she suspected, smashed-up nose, she found she could recall the manoeuvres and perform them seamlessly.

Cora now was completely focused on her and began to mutter. The flames above turned into icicles, jagging down from the sky.

_Tears From Heaven. _Emma remembered Regina's counter measure - Dragon's Teeth. She swung the sword up and easily countered it.

Cora waved her arm and a bracing wind bore down on her. _Satan's Breath_?

OK. Bear's cape. She crouched and then twisted sideways and back at exactly the right moment, pivoting her sword in a wild arc. The mini cyclone evaporated.

Cora stopped and spun to stare furiously at her daughter, who had her arms wrapped tightly around her knees and was rocking slightly. "How could you!" she shrieked. "Our most secret spells - you took an oath never to share their counter agents, our most sacred oath as magic practitioners. You risked everything. You showed HER?"

Regina cringed away from the enraged voice and Emma stared. Regina had never for a moment given the impression what she was sharing was highly protected information. She felt renewed respect for the trembling woman. She really had meant what said about doing everything in her power to help protect Henry.

Cora leaned over and ferociously slapped her daughter's face once more. "You'll be expelled for this, no warlock or witch will ever want to look at you again. They'll spit on you and ..."

"Hey lady?" Emma snarled from just behind Cora's back. "I think it's time you _shut the fuck up_."

With that she gave an almighty swipe with the weapon, the flat of the blade smashing hard across her back, sending the witch sprawling.

Cora's eyes flew wide, matching her own daughter's honestly startled expression.

"How dare you!" she shrieked. "You little tramp. You're no better than my daughter. She wanted to spread her legs for a mere stable hand. And you? You had a brat out of wedlock then want to crawl between my daughter's legs? Why you..."

Emma wound back and kicked her viciously in the stomach, following it up with a satisfying kick to her jaw. Cora's head snapped back and her nose exploded with blood.

"For someone who likes to call everyone _else _a tramp, you sure have a filthy mouth," Emma noted.

She jumped on Cora and began using Regina's favoured chokehold which had caught out Emma so many times before. It proved equally effective, and Cora's enraged face started to turn deep red.

Emma watched her closely and dropped her tone until it was Arctic cold. She whispered. "Now, you can call me every goddamned name under the sun. I don't care. I've heard them all before. In fact, here's the laugh, most of them your daughter has called me."

She caught the wince on Regina's face out of the corner of her eye. "But see," Emma continued, squeezing tighter, watching a vein leaping in Cora's neck. "You don't get to call my son anything but beautiful, or strong, or smart. And you sure as shit don't get to call your daughter any of those nasty things your disgusting trailer-trash brain dreams up. You got me? _Dear_?"

Cora's eyes were now starting to bulge and her face had gone from red to purple.

Emma turned to glance at Regina for guidance on what to do with Cora now, when the mayor's frightened eyes suddenly widened and her mouth opened to shout a warning.

It was too late. Emma felt the shift of temperature between their bodies.

Cora was instantly far too hot to touch and Emma realised the queen's fingers had been moving the entire time, crafting a spell Emma had never heard of.

_Well that'll teach me to monologue._

She jumped off the woman before she could be burned and Cora rose before her, magnificent in her wrath. Emma's eyes flicked to Regina, wondering what counter measure to use.

Regina shrugged helplessly back at her, terrified.

"Any more demands, dear?" Cora spat. "You should probably get them out now because I plan to end your existence in the next minute. Exactly as I ended Regina's first great love. And the bonus is, she's in a front row seat to watch it all over again. Won't that be fun, dear?" she said sweetly and turned to her daughter.

Emma saw Cora lift her hand with slow menace. Regina cried out and the scream was guttural and terrified: "No mother. _Please!_ Don't!"

The blonde felt a prickle of fear course through her. Was this how it would end? Seriously? She shot Regina one last glance and saw tears, regrets and wonder. Wonder that someone would bother defending her. Then incredible sadness filled her eyes. Green met brown. Regina mouthed: "I'm sorry." Then sadly lowered her head in defeat.

Emma frowned. _Screw this._ To hell she was going to die now. Especially to some child-abusing, spell-casting mad freaking cow.

Out of the corner of her eye noticed a scout bird hovering. Recording so Cora could watch it all later and get off on it, no doubt. Emma smiled suddenly, knowing exactly what to do and how to win. Her wide smile unsettled Cora long enough to delay her killer blow, just as her hand, glowing red, was lifting higher. The witch paused, slightly confused.

Emma shouldered her sword quickly like a baseball bat, wound back and smashed the mechanical bird directly at Cora's startled face. "NOOO!" she shrieked in horror. The woman immediately dissipated her magic and reached out to catch her beloved bird hurtling at breakneck speed towards her.

Just as Emma knew she would.

The blonde tucked her head in and surged ahead, tackling Cora heavily, who was falling forward, both hands cradling the creature. Their impact was an almighty THWUMP. Emma had winded her.

Sitting on Cora's stomach, she immediately slipped the edge of her blade hard under her chin. A trickle of blood began to run from her neck and Emma pressed harder and harder, her fury building.

Cora gave an astonished squeak.

"Any last words? _Dear_?" Emma asked. "What about 'Sorry, Regina. It was really wrong that I killed your boyfriend who you clearly loved'. Or, 'I failed you as a mother in every conceivable way – it was never you, it was me, because I am a controlling narcissistic abusive bitch'. Or, hey, I know: 'Regina, you're beautiful and smart and wonderful just the way you are, and any mother would be proud to have you as a daughter'?"

Cora snarled. "I will kill you," she squeezed out, as her breath began to fail. "That's a promise. You two deserve each other."

She lifted her hand and snapped a finger. In a pulse of light she was gone.

Emma ran forward to the mechanical bird flopping and whirring oddly on the ground and, with enormous pleasure, stomped its twitching head in with her boot. Then she stomped the rest of it twice more. Then she kicked it as far and as hard as she could. She looked around to see if there were any other birds.

None. _Pity_. She wasn't quite done stomping.

They were alone.

_Regina!  
_  
She dropped her bloodied sword and ran over to the brunette who was staring at her with wide, astonished eyes, her arms tightly hugging her knees.

Emma put her arms around her and whispered. "Hey. She's gone now."

Regina shook her head.

Emma nodded. "I promise, she is."

"She never really is," Regina whispered softly. "She's always here." The brunette pointed to her heart and then her head. Her hand formed a fist. Emma took it in her hands, warming it.

"OK, but I'm here now. Hey, White Knight, remember? And I will always kick her butt for you." She grinned and lifted her hand to Regina's chin and tilted the battered face taking in the painful-looking eye and bruising. "OK?"

She slowly pulled the brunette to her feet.

Regina put her hand on Emma's chest. "Did you mean what you said?"

"Which bit?"

Regina eyed her earnestly. "That I'm beautiful and wonderful," she faltered for a moment, "… just the way I am."

Emma blushed. She looked down. "Um. Yeah."

"No one has ever fought for me before," Regina said in an odd tone. "No one has ever defended me before. My father did nothing. He looked the other way," her voice cracked. "All the times I cried out for him, begged him to help. I told him what she did to me, sometimes he saw it, too, but he always turned away.

"Daniel wanted to help but he died in my arms. H-he couldn't even lift a finger. Mother _always_ wins." Tears slid down her face.

"Until now," Emma said.

Regina stared at her for the longest time. "Emma, I never, ever, allowed myself the luxury of hope before - that there could be an end to the hurting. Until ... now."

They looked at each other for a moment and Emma reached over and wiped her tears gently away.

"You called me Emma," the blonde said softly.

Regina gave a weak, warm smile. "You are my … my friend and my …" she lifted her hand up to stroke Emma's cheek, "You are my champion. You will never know how big a debt I owe you for that. The gift of hope."

Emma blushed faintly. "Um… well…"

Regina leaned forward and kissed her with feeling.

Emma shut the hell up and kissed her back. The way a beautiful woman deserves to be kissed.

**.**

**Author's note: OK I couldn't resist the Alien and Ellen Puppy episode nods. Next chapter, wall-to-wall sexy times. And The Debt will finally earn its M rating. Any pigeon-feeding would be wonderful and appreciated. Thanks for reading.  
**


	10. Chapter 10

**THE DEBT**

**By Scribes and Scrolls**

**.**

**CHAPTER 10: IN ALL THE EMPTY SPACES**

Regina gave a ghost of a smile as they pulled away. Emma half expected some mocking comment, a snide remark to defuse the power of what they had just experienced. Even a joke about how badly Emma had wanted that kiss.

Instead the mayor just looked at the blonde with dark desire. It made Emma's breath catch. She watched as Regina's hand trailed down her arm, causing an eruption of goosebumps.

The sheriff exhaled shakily, her eyes lowering and she gazed in fascination at the sight of Regina's bare nipples hardening under her stare. A split second later she remembered exactly why they were bare. Cora with her vicious whipping and stripping. She shuddered and stepped back, frowning.

Emma began unbuttoning her white linen shirt, revealing her white bra underneath.

"What are you doing?" Regina asked in confusion, arm dropping.

"Giving you some dignity," Emma said tightly, sliding the shirt off her own body and bringing it around Regina's shoulders, threading the other woman's arms through the sleeves.

The blood at the mayor's back soaked into the material and an obscene red stain spread rapidly across the shirt.

Emma began to do up the buttons at the front. She tried to keep her face neutral but she was seething. _How could a mother DO that? She was worse than a monster._

Regina glanced down. "Dear, that's really not necessary. After all it's not like you haven't seen it all before." She gave a wry, half smile. "Besides, I thought you _liked _this view."

Emma scowled. "I only ever want to see your breasts because you are _choosing _to show them to me. And I don't like the reminder of how I came to be seeing them now. Please ... _let me?_"

"But you're getting your shirt dirty," the mayor whispered, perplexed.

"It'll wash out." To Emma's dismay her hands started trembling and Regina's hand closed over hers.

"Dear, really, I am not ... bothered. Mother often liked to intimidate me in this way. Being stripped lost its power over me years ago."

Her attempt at reassurance just made the whole thing more heart-rending.

"It's wrong Regina," Emma said, voice shaking. "Really, _really _freaking wrong."

"I know that." The brunette's voice was quiet.

"Do you? I mean, you say the words but do you really know - _here_?" Emma's fingertips gently rested on the material now covering Regina's left breast, detecting the rapid thumping of the brunette's heart.

Regina sighed. "Of course I know. But sometimes it's easier not to dwell on how wrong it all is, or I'd never get out of bed. Never go to work. Never tend to Henry."

Emma's hand shifted to Regina's cheek. "I am so sorry for the crappy abusive hell you went through. I wish I could take it away."

Regina tilted her head. "You very nearly did today. I have never seen such incredible bravery - and never on my account. You were amazing."

Her eyes were burning with sincerity and Emma felt gutted that no one had ever fought for Regina before - not as an adult, not as a child. Her father must have been a weak piece of crap, too. Her eyes darkened. And she'd thought her own foster father was a piece of work. She finished buttoning Regina's shirt and stepped back.

"Beautiful," she said with feeling, gazing into brown eyes.

Regina gave her head an embarrassed shake but Emma could see she was secretly pleased.

The blonde cleared her throat and finally asked what had been weighing on her mind since the end of the fight.

"Why hasn't Cora blinked back already and tried to kill us again? She seemed mad enough to keep on coming."

Regina ran a hand through her hair, tucking a loose curl around one ear as she considered that. "She'll be severely drained now," she said. "Jumping in and out of locations uses enormous amounts of magical energy - add into that all the upper-tier spells she was tossing around and, well, she'll have to rest for at least a few days now."

"She'll be back though," Emma stated flatly.

Regina looked down. "Yes. There's always more." A bleakness crossed her eyes and Emma felt awful.

"I'm sorry Regina. I just ... couldn't kill her. You know that white knight title I have - I don't think the 'white' is just for decoration."

Regina mulled that over. "I assumed that as a bounty hunter there must have been times when it would have been acceptable to kill in self-defence?"

"I preferred to avoid those times," Emma said darkly. They began to walk toward the pool. "I have pretty good instincts so it never came to that."

Regina fell silent for a moment and then asked very softly: "Emma ... is that the _only _reason my mother is still alive? Because you won't kill?"

Emma started in surprise. She had forgotten just how perceptive Regina was.

"Mainly," she said. "But we ... hadn't ever discussed ... I mean, I didn't know what you wanted. Look, Regina, I've met kids seriously messed up by their parents who would defend the cruel bastards _to the death_. They'd poke your eye out if you'd even dared hint their folks deserved a bit of payback. And, well, I wasn't sure I could just ... run a sword through the mother of the woman I lo... um... _you _... without, well, permission." She faded out.

Regina slid her arm around Emma's waist and squeezed gently. It was the most adorably affectionate thing Regina had ever done and Emma was so startled she missed her step. She recovered quickly and was pleased the mayor made none of her customary caustic remarks.

The brunette inclined her head thoughtfully. "I believe I understand. But for future reference, dear, you have my permission to do whatever you need to do. Never hesitate on my account, especially if your life is in danger. She has been dead to me as a mother for decades. If she ever was a real mother to me at all." Her eyes glinted darkly.

Emma shook her head. This was surely the most surreal conversation she'd ever had with someone.

"OK then," the blonde said. "And, you know, just so we're clear, it'd have to be a kill-or-be-killed deal, cos I'm really _not _a killer."

"I can see that, my dear. It's really rather quaint. And sweet. Especially around here." She offered a wry smile to show she was joking.

The truth of her statement, however, hung in the air.

Emma bent down and picked up her sword to hide how unsettled she was. For the first time it occurred to her she was now in a survival-of-the-fittest world. And no one thought anything of killing when it was deemed necessary. She wondered if her parents, Granny, Ruby and everyone else she'd ever known in Storybrooke shared that view, and she was the odd one out.

She suddenly felt homesick for … _hell_… Emma realised she was actually missing her world's barely functional, crappy judicial system. And that was despite having spent time on the wrong side of the bars. For all she knew, even sweet Mary Margaret had tried to kill people in this world. She shivered.

The blonde had never felt so uneasy. They walked on in silence, each lost in thought.

. . . . . . . . .

Emma decided she'd never seen a more gorgeous sight than the healing spa. The smell of the now familiar vanilla filled her nose with anticipation. She had aches in places she didn't know existed. And if she felt like her head had been in a vice then sat on by an elephant, she could only imagine what Regina was feeling.

She noticed the brunette hastened her pace and, with a tight wince, gently lowered herself into the water. A shudder of complete bliss crossed her features and then she began to efficiently tear her clothes off.

Emma sat on the edge, delaying peeling off her own clothes, settling for removing her boots, and just soaking in the view of the mayor looking free. Weightless. There was something else - around the eyes. Emma suddenly realised what was new: Regina was unguarded. It was mesmerising.

The brunette felt her staring because she turned and said with a small smirk: "_Yes_, dear? And why aren't you in already? Surely you're not STILL feeling modest?"

Emma grinned. "Well, maybe a little," she laughed and then stood. Knowing she had an audience, a blush was steadily creeping up her neck when she slid her jeans and panties down to her ankles and stepped out of them.

The blonde felt nervous. She looked down at her white body, a little too sinewy and hard, all lean and angled - not soft like Regina's. She had scars and flaws, like that knife wound on her stomach that never completely faded. A few stretch marks, courtesy of Henry that she had always tried to hide. Most of her imperfections came from a hard life lived on the edge of civilised society and without a hell of a lot of love.

It occurred to her, as she reached behind herself and took off her bra, unable to resist dangling it out for a moment for effect, before dropping it on the bank, that Regina could say the same. Her scars might be magically excised, but they remained - gouged deep into her soul. And this strange wild land was the very epitome of a life without civilisation.

They were both damaged goods in their own way. This was the first time she found herself standing naked before someone else not hiding _anything_. Maybe Regina would not recoil from her. Emma sucked in a small breath. She might even understand.

As she stepped into the frothing waters, she finally got the nerve to slide her eyes up to the mayor's and was relieved to see no judgment. Eyes flicked across her body. They took in the stretch marks, the scars, the muscles, everything. They lingered over her small breasts tipped with hard pink nipples and the blonde thatch between her legs. Emma reddened.

When brown eyes slid back up to hers, all Emma could see was hunger. A tongue slowly slid out to lick lips.

"Beautiful," Regina husked, her voice thick with arousal, the word deliberately chosen to match what Emma had used before.

Emma felt the hope light her eyes. "Yeah?" she asked, unable to keep the tremulousness from her voice. Questioning.

Recognition of the self-consciousness and doubt Emma usually tried so hard to hide behind her swagger flitted across the brunette's features. She softened.

"Oh yes, my dear," Regina said appreciatively. "You are _perfection_."

She stepped up to the sheriff and wrapped her arms around her and began nibbling just under her ear. Her breasts were rubbing against Emma's, making it incredibly hard to form coherent thoughts. Hands dropped to Emma's hips and pulled their naked centres tightly together.

"Unnghh," Emma said helplessly, eyes almost rolling back in her head at the sensory overload. She could actually feel heat radiating from Regina and it amazed her she was having this effect on the mayor. She ran her hands sensually up and down Regina's thighs, relishing the fact the water made it frictionless.

She could feel the play of the brunette's muscles, the smoothness of her skin and she delighted in the occasional quiver she felt under her fingers. She moved across to the source of Regina's heat, but a hand intercepted her.

"There'll be time for that, later," she said. Emma could feel the other woman's smile against her skin. Regina's slippery lips were sliding up Emma's bare wet neck, as she continued, "First, my dear: _Heroes must be rewarded_," she stated with a seductive, throaty drawl. She nipped her way along Emma's jawline to punctuate.

Regina's hands, meanwhile, floated across to Emma's chest, cupping soft breasts, rubbing her nipples to points. Her mouth sought out the blonde's lips, kissing them hungrily, her tongue seeking hers. Emma didn't hesitate, tasting and teasing her.

She heard the mayor groan, and realised with a jolt of arousal that the sensual torture wasn't all one way.

They finally broke apart, Regina's fingers rising to touch Emma's kiss-swollen lips.

"You really are a delightful kisser," she muttered.

She suddenly pulled away from her arms and rose out of the water. Emma stared in surprise. It was hard to tear her eyes off the olive-skinned goddess, as water careened past her swollen breasts, to small, firm hips. She blinked.

"Going somewhere?"

Regina reached her hand out, "We may as well do this right. In a real bed. In the cottage, with comfort."

Emma gave a shaky smile, exhaling a breath she didn't realise she was holding. She took the brunette's hand. "God yes," she croaked.

. . . . . . . . . .

There was something particularly delicious about being towel-dried by the object of your desires, Emma decided as she felt the fluffy white towel in Regina's hands swirl across her breasts and belly and below. Regina dropped soft kisses on her shoulder on every towel pass, too. Emma would definitely never take drying off for granted again.

They slid into bed in a tangle of naked limbs and before she could stop herself, Emma assumed the spooning position of all their many nights together - her body remembering what it loved before her brain kicked in to remind her that that's not why they were there.

She heard Regina breathe out heavily, clearly relishing being spooned. "I loved it whenever you did that. Especially after… " She faded out.

Emma nuzzled the back of the woman's neck. "… After your mother visited?" she supplied.

She saw the other woman tense.

"Usually I can never sleep. _After_," Regina exhaled.

Emma lay her cheek against Regina's neck and wrapped her arms around her front, kneading her breasts, seeking out her nipples. "Trust me when I say, it was _my pleasure_," Emma said trying to infuse as much sensuality as she could into the sentence, to rip Regina's mind away from the dark place it was wandering to. She let her fingers play with and scrabble over firm nipples she could feel becoming harder.

"You're with _me_ now, Regina, and it's time we did something we should have done months ago."

She heard the other woman's breath hitch and after a moment Regina rolled over on top of Emma, pinning her down, eyes burning, lip curling.

"Months ago?" she asked hoarsely. "We hated each other months ago."

The blonde smirked. "Do you _really_ believe that?" Emma husked, leaning forward and kissing her hard, claiming her. "All the times you got up in my face. Half the time I thought you wanted to chest bump me. Or hit me. Now I know you just wanted to kiss me."

She gave a knowing smile and watched the hooded eyes above her narrow dangerously. Emma felt her heart leap into her mouth. Regina was so freaking sexy when she gave her that haughty eat-shit-and-die look.

_Glare all you like. _Emma reached up, grabbed a fistful of dark hair and pulled her sharply to her, crashing their lips together again. Their tongues warred and clashed and Emma felt satisfaction when she pulled a throaty moan out of the mayor.

Regina wrapped her arms behind Emma's shoulders pulled their naked bodies tightly together, skin sliding against skin, and began to rock them both.

The blonde could feel her thatch of hair and sensitive lips begin to rub against Regina's darker curls. She could feel the wetness of their centres mingling as they ground together. The thought of it alone was making her weak.

"_God_," she hissed, her eyes tightly shutting as the sensations began to build.

She felt a hand snaking its way between them, and Regina lifting off her just enough to let it slide between Emma's legs and cup her centre. Then a finger separated and slid through her folds. The wetness was abundant and Emma flushed, moaning softly. The feeling was intoxicating.

Regina slid two fingers easily inside her and began to slowly move them. She dropped her head, nuzzling Emma's collar bone, then slid down and began nipping her breasts, her slender pumping fingers never pausing for a second.

The brunette took a nipple in her mouth, eyes dancing with mischief as she caught green eyes and deliberately gave a light chew as Emma watched. White teeth flashed their amusement as Emma's eyes widened and Regina noisily laved and bit and teased the nipple as though it were the world's most delicious appetiser.

All the while, the maddening things Regina's fingers were doing between her folds were simply indescribable.

Regina let go of the nipple with a satisfied pop, gave the other one a quick apologetic lick for neglecting it and then continued to move lower. Her hand finally stilled and slid out.

Emma mourned its loss for only a moment.

Regina settled herself between Emma's legs, and to the blonde's surprise spread her thighs as wide as they could go, hands pressing them further and further apart.

Emma felt completely open and vulnerable. She slid her eyes to Regina's face and saw naked, burning arousal. She swallowed.

"I have wanted to do this since…" Regina paused, her voice ragged… "Ever since you kissed me in the tunnel. I almost came undone on the spot." Her eyes closed briefly, clearly remembering. "That's never happened to me before.

"I wanted to push you up against the wall – _hard_ - and…then…" Regina kissed all along the inner thighs splayed before her, hands dusting up and down, causing an eruption of goosebumps. Her mouth lowered, achingly slowly, towards the engorged glistening lips below. "Then I wanted to take you, _like this_," she whispered, her words becoming a groan. She dropped her head and sealed her mouth on the blonde's centre, tongue pushing powerfully inside her.

Emma gasped. Her body instantly bucked and arched, but Regina held her firmly as she lashed her core with powerful licks, and teased her entrance with tips of fingers.

The sensations were incredible. Like warm honey, but more liquid.

Fingers began to move quickly inside her and a thumb now snaked out and skidded across the blonde's aroused clit.

Emma could barely think straight – she remembered all too well that moment in the tunnel, the way Regina had kissed her back, pushed her body into hers. But now, knowing what she had been thinking, Emma had never felt more on fire. Regina had wanted her. She had wanted to crash her into that rocky wall, drop to her knees, rip down Emma's pants and bury her face in her. Lash her with her tongue, claim her. And she was doing just that. Emma felt a rush of wetness and could not contain the primal moan.

She was undulating now, her toes curling with the persistent, skilled fingers. Her hand drifted down to Regina's hair, loving the feeling of it - the way it curled and kicked. Soft and thick. Luxurious. She let her fingers thread through it and tugged at the other woman's head, directing her to the exact spot which would make her lose herself…

She began to groan Regina's name when the mayor's tongue slipped across her clit exactly the way Emma loved it. Then she did it again. And once more with a cheeky flourish.

Emma felt the other woman smile into her sensitive, ignited skin and that was all it took.

She arched off the bed, crying out. Her orgasm smashed through her and the brunette feasted on her hungrily, still sliding her warm tongue over engorged lips long after the deep shudders turned to twitches.

Kisses continued up Emma's crumpled body, a trail of wetness left behind.

Regina's mouth finally found hers and began to claim her. Emma felt impossibly aroused all over again as she tasted herself on those curved, amused lips.

"How do you do that?" Emma sighed, when she finally paused for a breath.

"What?" Regina's eyes were glittering.

"Take me with so much passion. I have never felt so lov..." She couldn't say it. Regina was now regarding her with surprise as she had clearly filled in the blank.

"I mean ... I... that was great, mind blowing actually," Emma finished lamely. She looked away in embarrassment.

_Shit, Emma, don't go accusing former evil queens of making love to you. Regina Mills has SEX for God's sake. She doesn't do THAT. Projecting much?  
_  
Regina slid her head down to Emma's shoulder, and gathered her breath. Emma threaded her fingers through the now sweat-drenched brown hair, desperately wondering what the mayor was thinking.

It didn't take long before Emma realised the brunette was slowly rubbing herself against her thigh, a small pool of wetness growing by the second.

"Emma, dear," she whispered, breathlessly, "I think it'd be 'mind blowing' if you ... made love to me, too?"

Emma sucked in a sharp breath. _Holy_…! Her soul felt like it was ready to explode. Her smile split her face and when Regina looked up she knew she had been startled by the intensity of it.

"Hell yeah," she grinned at the brunette. "I'd like that a lot."

Emma flipped them over and began to kiss every bit of skin she could find. She loved discovering the parts of Regina that made her hum or squirm or moan or lean up into her mouth.

She loved it when Regina cried out when Emma kissed her nipples, hard and firm. And when she finally reached her destination, the incredible amount of wetness nestled against dark curls made her swallow in anticipation. She let her fingers dance through the short hairs and watched Regina hiss, her eyes pleading not to be tormented.

Emma took the hint and lowered her mouth, eyes still looking up, enjoying the desire flitting across the woman contorting before her. Regina gave a small hitched cry when the blonde's tongue skidded across moist skin.

The brunette was ready - really ready - and had been for some time. Emma tasted her, devouring the earthy essence, dark, sharp and spicy. _Delicious_. She drove her tongue inside again and again, rocking against her, loving hearing her name wrenched out from the twisting body above.

Regina was so responsive. She clearly enjoyed being caressed by Emma's tongue, but even more than that, she loved to be touched. It was ironic, really, given how she was any other time. It was like her sensory and sensual needs were all locked up, waiting to be enticed out. Anywhere and everywhere she was touched, Regina would groan and sigh, trembling as Emma got her closer and closer.

And, when the blonde finally drove two fingers between soaked folds, sliding teeth and lips across a peeking clit, she felt the mayor lose control. Her back twisted and pulled away sharply from the bed and then she slumped back, covering her face with a limp hand.

Emma realised to her surprise after a moment that the brunette was actually crying. She scrambled up Regina's body and held her, hugging her softly.

"I have no idea, why I am doing this," the mayor sniffed, clearly aggrieved at her rampaging hormones. "This is ridiculous," she said with a dramatic pout.

Emma grinned. "Nah, it's just been a big day - our poor bodies are letting it all out any way they can."

Regina tightened her grip on the sheriff. "Perhaps," she conceded. "Anyway, don't go getting the idea I am going soft."

"Absurd thought," Emma grinned. "You're my hard ass, remember."

She froze. She had meant to say _a _hard ass. The proprietary claim had just slipped out.

Regina glanced at her enquiringly and either chose to overlook the slip or embraced it - Emma couldn't tell. "Don't you forget it, dear," she said.

Emma smiled. "So, do you wanna go again? I am not even half done with you."

"By all means, sheriff," Regina agreed, a rumbling laugh beginning in her chest. "If you're going to do a job, do it right."

Their lovemaking session - or rather sessions - lasted hours, well into the night. They would rest and then go again. And again. Emma had never felt so completely the focus of another person. Every time her eyes twitched back open, breath gasping, burning brown eyes were locked onto hers, observing, memorising, dancing.

It had all finally come to a sleepy, sloppy end when Emma had closed her eyes tiredly, nestling against Regina's chest and whispered without thinking: "Love you."

Regina had merely murmured happily into her tangle of long blonde hair "Mmmm" before she stiffened. But whatever Emma made of that approving statement, her tired mind never processed it as she had already slipped into sleep.

. . . . . . .

Emma woke late the next day, her body feeling wonderfully sore in all the right places. She stretched happily as the images of making love to Regina came flooding back. She realised the bed was empty and glanced over to the kitchen expecting to see her making coffee in some scandalous outfit. The kitchen was empty.

She rolled over to look at the bathroom and saw the door open. "Regina?" she called.

Silence.

_Maybe she went for a bath?_ Emma told herself, even as fear began to lick up her spine.

She glanced back at the kitchen and her eye fell to the table. She swore and the sickest sensation filled her. She leapt to her feet and ran over.

Emma saw her red leather jacket neatly folded and a note on top.

_"Miss Swan, Thank you for saving my life. I hope you enjoyed what I gave you in return. Based on my mother's insinuations, this appeared to be what you most wanted from me. It was a pleasant diversion but, to be clear, this was your infatuation rather than mine. My debt is now repaid in full and I can proceed with my life, free of encumbrances. Look after Henry. - R._

_PS I cleaned your jacket._

Emma put down the note, her fingers shaking. She could barely see with the tears filling her eyes. Her throat tightened painfully. She picked up the jacket, smelling vanilla, and traced its clean lines with her fingers. Her finger fell on an imperfection and she leaned forward and peered down. Tiny stitches. They were where a small tear had been made months ago. She never had gotten around to fixing it.

She lay the jacket flat and realised everywhere it had been ripped or small holes had been, Regina had darned with stitches so perfectly tiny they were almost invisible. It was fine work which would have taken many hours and much intense, skilled focus.

She turned the jacket over and looked at the lining. The seam, which had been slightly coming apart was also repaired. And, near the collar, in the most beautiful embroidered deep-scarlet handwriting were the words "Emma Swan", so beautifully sewn that a calligrapher's hand might have done the template.

Emma stared. Regina had actually gone to the effort of sewing her freaking name into her jacket?

She thought back to all the times she'd asked Regina to go with her to the hatch lock or fishing, and Regina had always come up with an excuse. This was what she had been doing.

Emma's eyes fell on the letter. She frowned in confusion. Regina couldn't seriously be suggesting their night together had been a repayment for saving her life? Her anger flared. _A gratitude fuck? _

She felt sick when she recalled Regina telling her earlier that "heroes must be rewarded".

She could feel her rage and shame building as she lay the jacket softly down and picked the letter up again. Was she really just something to be ticked off on Regina's to-do list? A loose thread to be snipped? It was all an _act_?

Regina must have loathed owing a favour to her if these were the lengths to which she'd go.

_But_…

Her mind flew back over the evening. It had felt _incredible_. How could _anyone_ fake that?

Although Regina wasn't just anyone. _  
_

The blonde scowled as she eyed the hurtful words. Regina's reputation for cruelty had been well deserved. If anything it was understated.

Emma felt humiliated. _Dirty_. Maybe she really was some mildly diverting chore to be dispensed with, and now Regina really was finished with her.

Either way, now she was gone.

Emma stood and slid the jacket on over her shoulders and across her bare breasts. Her fingers fell across the small imperfections which Regina had painstakingly fixed. She dusted over them like braille. She didn't know what to make of it. Finally she simply hugged the jacket to her, her brain a confused riot of snarling, despairing emotions as she tried futilely to make sense of what had just happened.

The tears began to fall, landing with a splash and sliding down the clean red leather. She did not bother to stop them.

She now only had one thought left as she clung to herself.

_It was time to go home._

. . . .

**Check out the sequel and ending to this story: A Ledger Squared In Blood. **


End file.
